Home is Behind, the World Ahead
by Afleet'32
Summary: Adamanta Bolo, a young hobbit, joins with the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring. She is not a hobbit to underestimate, however. Hers is the story of a journey and all that came after...and how she discovered herself in the process.
1. Chapter 1

Home is Behind, the World Ahead

The Tale of Adamanta Bolo, who travels on Many Adventures with Several Hobbits, a Ranger, an Elf, Men, and a Wizard

My Arrival in the Shire, In Which I did not Plan to Go

_It's a dangerous business, going outside your door._

_If you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you'll be swept off to._

--Bilbo Baggins

The snow had been falling steadily since early that morning and because of the lovely carpet of thick icy stuff, school was cancelled and everyone in the house was gone. Excitement raced through my bones as I lay deep in my bed, hearing the last door slam. Even though I was tired, light shone in my window as a sort of promise and I got up into the chilly air. I threw on a bathrobe over my pajamas and made myself sausages on the stove and started the coffee while the main menu for _The Fellowship of the Ring _played in the background. I settled down at the computer for a few minutes checking my emails and then huddled in my comforter chair, pressing play to start my favorite and the first _Lord of the Rings. _Sometime while the Fellowship was still gathering in Rivendell, the doorbell rang and I scampered off to get it, still in my pajamas and holding my coffee mug. Standing on the snowy front stoop was a grinning mailman.

"Package for you, miss," he said and handed me a heavy manila envelope.

"Thanks!" I said excitedly when I read the return address. I fumbled with it, trying to hold my mug in my arm and open the envelope at the same time. It was finally here…my pre-book. I felt so important, holding my bound manuscript in my hands knowing millions of copies were going to be published with my name emblazed on the cover. I flipped through the pre-book and smiled to myself, about to go inside when something on the stoop glinted in the snow. I picked up a little brooch from its pocket of snow, looking back into the envelope with a little frown.

_It must have fallen out_, I thought.

The brooch was in the shape of a beautiful leaping horse, full of grace, so incredibly lifelike that I wondered who could have made it. As I turned it over in my hand there seemed to be some kind of air; a magic about it. Suddenly I gasped as the horse's eye turned to look straight at me, and gave me a little half-smile. I was so startled that I jumped back and rolled off the front steps, hitting the ground hard. But I hadn't fallen into cold snow like I'd expected; I'd hit swirling air and heard voices, and thrown the brooch off somewhere. The world around me had vanished.

_12 July, 2981, of the Third Age_

_19 Afterlithe, 1381 Shire-Reckoning Time…_

"_Adamanta!" Mother whispered. 7 and-a-half years old, I tottered to her, holding my hands behind my back. She was dying, and I knew it. I was too small to understand, though, and too young for the memories to stay planted firmly in my head. All the memories from my childhood, with her, were uprooted by the wind and tossed away, leaving specks of dirt and seeds for my future. Tears crept down my hot cheeks as she took me into her arms one last time, and Father cried violently in the next room. The room spun as the screams shattered my sense of safety, and I crawled into bed with Mother, holding her close. Her breath left her, and I stuck my thumb in my mouth, too numb to move. _

_22 September, 2901, of the Third Age_

_1 Winterfilth, 1301, Shire-Reckoning Time... _

_My back broken with sweat, I raked a hoe across a stretch of dirt that seemed too stubborn to want to crumble. Father called to me, as he took off for the Green Dragon. "I want that done before I get home, hear? Then get into a clean dress cus it's Bilbo Baggins' 9o__th__ Birthday party!" He hollered, holding his tankard in the air. I wiped sweat off my brow and put my hands on my hips, frowning at the stubborn dirt. I kicked the hoe and was about to turn to go inside. Wouldn't matter if the job was done or not. Then again, I wanted to have a good present for my 10__th__ birthday...I pulled the hoe once more, and the dirt's hard surface finally gave in a little. I smiled. Something at last was going right, and that gave me such a clear burst of hope, that I even planned on having a jolly time at the party. Once the hard dirt was cracked I was able to plow the rest of the garden over, and stacked bags of seeds nearby for tomorrow. For now, well it was Bilbo Baggins' grand birthday party. I wiped my hands on my apron and walked round to the front of my home, the hobbit hole I adored more than anything else. It was dug into the side of a hill by my father's ancestors, and every Bolo there ever was lived there since. Primroses littered the hillside and grew over the hole, and the round door was painted a sharp yellow, every spring, by Father and me. I set a pot of water boiling, on the stone hearth, and sat in Father's easy chair, pretending to puff his pipe, so that I could have warm water in my bath. On the bed I set out a pink flowery dress and some hair ribbons for my reddish-brownish curls, dreaming of what could happen..._

_As I crept along with Father, I ran into several other young girls about my age. Lily Boffin was 9 and Poppy Bracegirdle was 12. It was very exciting, to meet some friends at last! Father smiled when Lily invited me to sleep-over, since now he didn't have to find chores and things for me to do! I also met Rose Cotton, and the Cotton family who Father has known for years. Rosie is 18 already but she is still very nice, as are the Gamgees and the Baggins. In fact, every family is very kind. At last, some comfort and fun for me!_

_30 August, 2903, of the Third Age_

_8 Halimath, 1303, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

_The warm afternoon urged us to go out, so Lily pushed back my bangs with a headband and I let my curly auburn hair fall to my waist (In the summertime, though, my hair really lightens to copper). In my favorite green dress I skipped along the road to Rosie Cotton's hobbit hole, with Lily and Poppy at my side, being extra cautious to stay under the trees so the sweat wouldn't wreck our prettying-up. I turned to whisper to Lily when she suddenly cried, "Watch out!" I turned at the last second and felt something hit me so hard the breath left my body with an "Oomph!" _

_I landed on my rump and glared when I saw it was only some hobbit boys, three to be exact. They were wearing jumpers and their undershirts, which must have been white at some time, were smeared with dirt. One of the boys had fair curly hair and dark eyes, one had dark curly hair and bright blue eyes, and the third had light brown hair and green eyes. I kicked myself away from them and tried to get to my feet but the fair-haired boy shoved me to the ground again. "Hey!" I cried, but he took my arm and roughly pulled me to him. "You're hostage!" He sneered. "You wanna get away, you gotta go steal me some mushrooms from Farmer Maggot!" I was so scared, I could feel my heart pulsing and pounding against the breast of my dress. "Let her go!" I heard Lily cry, and one of the other young boys matched her cry. I looked up through tear-stained cheeks. My arm hurt, and I could hear the third boy laughing at the whole thing. The fair-haired boy gave me a grin after his friend told him to let go of me, and touched my curls. "Pretty ribbons," he said, before yanking them out and dashing them to the dirt path and stepping on them. He pushed me to the ground again and took off running with his friend, but the kind boy stayed behind and bent down as I tried to get up._

"_Sorry," he said, brushing the dirt away from my dress, arms, and cheeks. His eyes were big and blue, his hands were so soft, and he was so nice. I felt myself blushing as he leaned to tap some dirt off my nose, and put his hand down on mine by accident. "What's your name?" He asked me. "Adamanta... Bolo, of Bolo Gorge," I stammered, using the formal name of my hobbit hole. "What's yours?" The boy held his chin a little higher. "I'm Frodo Baggins of Bag End, Miss," he said. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, Lily frowning. Poppy stared at the ground and didn't say a thing. _

"_Wanna play?" Frodo asked hopefully, looking from me to Lily, but suddenly with a burst of speed the other boys were back. The one who'd pushed me to the ground sneered at me. "C'mon, Frodo," he called. "I bet she doesn't run or fight or tussle..." Grasping Frodo's arm, he pulled him to his feet and they scampered off, with Frodo wildly waving at us. _

_When we finally got to the Gamgees we silently sat over tea, partly because of our experience with the boys (Poppy and Lily were whispering among themselves behind my back) and partly because two other girls were there; Estella Bolger and Diamond of Long Cleeve. Rosie knew something was wrong, and came to talk to us when I told my story and how upset I was. "Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took?" She asked. "They don't mean anything. They're just silly boys." I frowned. "Frodo's not," I said, and she smiled and poured more tea. "No, Frodo's a different kind. Just like Samwise Gamgee." _

_I was troubled by that for awhile. _

_22 September 2905, of the Third Age_

_1 Winterfilth 1305, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

_Estella and Diamond and I ran along the road, hoping to catch sight of Gandalf's fireworks. They were big and bright, like hundreds of fireflies changing into glittering colors in the night air...of course they were just a lot louder. The sun was setting and Father was off getting himself drunk again with the other hobbits, but Estella and Diamond and I skipped, holding hands, between the red, blue, gold, purple, and green colored tents, only stopping when someone pet our heads and admired our silky ribbons and bouncy, curly hair. "Such lovely girls," Someone said, and I curtsied at them, feeling the soft warm moss between my toes. I bared a cheeky grin, introducing strangers to the fact that I had been extra-careful in avoiding freckles. I had worn caps and big hats all spring to ensure the fact, and was extremely proud of myself. _

_Rosie was serving ale, just barely old enough to, in fact. "Want some help, Rosie?" I asked her. "No, thanks," she grinned, her gold curly hair shining in the lights of the party tree. I sat near her anyway, positioning myself just so. Finally, Rosie sat down with me, blushing and smiling and waving. I bent my head. "Who's that?" I mouthed. A fair-haired hobbit lad shuffled his feet, trying to hide his embarrassment. _

_His face was round and sweet, and his hazel eyes darted this way and that occasionally stopping to rest on Miss Rosie. _

"_That's Sam," Rosie said quietly. "He's Frodo's neighbor. You know the Gamgees, don't you? On Bagshot Row?" _

_I stretched my head again. Someone tapped my shoulder and I whirled around, startling myself when I stared into a pair of bright blue eyes. I would know that face anywhere..._

"_Hi," Frodo said. "Wanna dance?" The music seemed to whistle my invitation and I yearned to stretch out a hand and take him to the dance floor. But then he was jostled by some of his friends, including Merry and Pippin, who laughed loudly at him and me. While he was blushing and snapping back at them I picked up my skirts and ran clear around the setup of tents, ducking under cake platters and trays of ale, and dodging dancing, drunken hobbits until I got back to Rosie. "What was that?" She giggled. "You ran like your skirts were aflame." I wrinkled my nose so I could see the unfashionable freckles in the corners of my eyes, ones I had missed. I hadn't been as careful as I thought._

"_Dancing with boys is gross," I said, and we both laughed. Then, Rosie started staring off again, probably at that Samwise. "Would you give me a message to take to him?" I asked her. She smiled and bent down to whisper in my ear, and I took off running again. _

_23 February 2907, of the Third Age_

_3 Rethe, 1307, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

_For weeks, the hobbits of the Shire anticipated snow. The trees had lost their leaves, the farming season was done, and it was frightfully cold even though the Brandywine didn't freeze over like in the old stories. Even still, we girls shook with excitement at the prospect of meeting the wolves we'd heard so much about, that lived on the other side of the Brandywine and could cross it if it was stiff enough. The weather became a routine discussion at the Green Dragon as Father, his friends, my friends, and I walked the frozen paths to the pub, wrapped in cloaks and breathing white clouds. The skies were bright and gray, and everywhere children waited for the first snowfall, one that would bring blankets and happiness after Yuletide. _

_I was too excited, even to sleep the night of the big storm; it had finally come! I cuddled up in Bolo Gorge, just me and my father, he smoking a pipe and drinking ale and telling me stories that made me giggle. The wind howled and I snuggled deep into my winter nightgown and blankets which, though I was toasty enough, kept me extra snuggly as the hearth snapped and crackled and filled the hole with a warm glow. After a warm, hearty dinner Father and I crept to the windows and drew pictures with the white smoke left behind when we breathed on them. I drew a portrait of Father, with a goofy looking smile and his pipe, which made him bellow with laughter, and then he plucked me up as I giggled and took me outside. We stood for a few moments together, staring up at the snow which littered the Shire. I'd never seen anything so wonderful, and as I snuggled with a book beside the hearth and Father made hot chocolate, whistling all the while, I had to smile. It was one of my happiest memories since Mother died. Father tucked me into bed, and the last thing I remembered that night was curling up under the quilts on my goose-down mattress._

_The next morning, the snow was still falling heavily, and I ran to the window as soon as I awoke. Father made me pancakes with lots of syrup and butter and sausages, and Lily and Estella and Diamond and Poppy came over early. We put on our heaviest dresses and wool cloaks early in the morning as the snow fell and fell. We built snowmen and rolled around in the snow, giggling the whole day. And when we were tired of that, we ran to Rosie Cotton's and her mother made us hot chocolate and sat us by the hearth, drying out our cloaks by the hot, dry fire. It was a day of perfect comforts, as we giggled together by the hearth and played "If You Dare." Rosie with red cheeks gave us a basket of hot cookies and a note to bring to Sam Gamgee and his father, the Gaffer. She asked quietly, though her mother smiled behind her back. "Would you deliver this to Samwise and the Gaffer down Bagshot Row, please?" It was our custom, especially for me, to deliver messages between them, and Samwise had become as close to me as much as he did to Rosie. But no matter how we tried, we never could get them to speak more than three words to each other in person. The girls and I laughed as we took the basket, and smiled harder still when Sam took the note and a grin stretched across his cheeks. He looked wistfully down the lane. "If you little travelers aren't busy," he smiled, "here's some cinnamon tea and some biscuits for you, and if you could take these books next door to Bag End; they're Mr. Bilbo's. And a note to Rosie, to thank her for the basket, of course..." Of course, we went to the Hill, blowing white clouds in each other's faces. I knocked, my palms shaking, and not from the cold neither. Frodo answered the door and took the books, and well, he came out with us to play, and we had a monstrous snowball fight that Sam even joined, before setting off towards the Cottons' and then home. It felt so good to be back in my warm hobbit-hole, watching the snow fall. I blew on my homemade hot chocolate and took a sip. It burned the top of my tongue and it definitely didn't taste as good as Rosie's, but I drank the whole mug down anyway. _

_22 September 2911, of the Third Age_

_1 Winterfilth 1311, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

_The parties seemed to be getting bigger and better every year. _

_Poor Frodo was ill, so he couldn't attend, but I had fun with Diamond, Estella, and Lily. Poppy's head had gotten much bigger than _she _herself had, and she seemed to believe she was already 33, much better than the rest of us 20-year-olds (except I, who would turn 21 very, very soon)! I laughed thinking of it, while Lily and Estella made faces at Rosie from afar. She has fancied Samwise Gamgee for years and years and still won't do a darn about it! I had to elbow Sam to get him to stop staring, and despite his unknown fear of talking to Rosie, he's really nice and lots of fun. We played crazy games and danced the night away, and when I turned round Merry actually asked me to dance! I glowered at him. I was still mad about what he did to me just to make fun, all those years ago. Lily seemed mad, too, and we took arms and walked away, chins in the air, after pushing him into his fancy, Estella. The Took family was there, too, but luckily I didn't see Pippin. He was just as terrible as his cousin. Despite a fun night, though I was pretty miffed Frodo wasn't there. Maybe next time. _

_3 March 2915, of the Third Age_

_13 Rethe 1315, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

_Father said I could start working in the Green Dragon if I really wanted to. As soon as he said it, I told him I was going off to see Rosie, who is a good person to talk to in difficult situations. It was a time I really wished Mother were there...Father's been doing the best he can but with just me, and me being a girl, and all my friends of course being girls it has been very hard on him. Just yesterday afternoon I tried asking about what was happening to me, because Mrs. Cotton mentioned something about 'monthlies' and me becoming a woman soon...and he just blushed and avoided the subject while puffing on his pipe. But him talking about me working was a definite sign things were changing. Estella and Diamond probably know. They all have big families and _can_ know these things. Even the boys are acting different, like something's changed. Last year at Bilbo's party they all stared goggle-eyed like something was terribly wrong...and if they had something to say they were very kind, even Merry and Pippin. They whisper and talk behind their hands and won't touch a girl unless they're playing "If You Dare" and do it. Frodo hasn't talked to any of us either. The boys stick to their own selves and their own trouble... But when I peered into the study tonight, after getting home, Father was bent over a painting of Mother, and he was sobbing. Terrible, wrenching sobs. I cried myself to sleep._

_5 July 3018, of the Third Age_

_12 Afterlithe, 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

_It could have been like another of Bilbo's parties, since nearly the whole Shire was at our hobbit hole. Except they were coming to pay respects and not to have fun. It was a solemn, solitary, and overall, sorrowful day for me. Even though I was 27 I crept under the table and hid while hobbits whispered amongst themselves in black gowns and suits. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo were there, and the Tooks, the Brandybucks, the Cottons, the Gamgees, the Longcleeves, and the Bolgers. I dug my face into my arms, ignoring all the comforts Estella, Diamond, and Rosie tried to bestow on me. No one could do anything. My father had been sick, sicker than he'd ever been before, and I couldn't do anything to help him...I wept into Sam's chest when he got me to my feet and Rosie gave him a smile of thanks. I turned round, since everyone seemed to want to talk to me, and Frodo was standing there, looking lost. Without a word he embraced me, and my eyes filled with hot, wet tears. My face screwed up and I felt like I was screaming, but nothing came but the tears. I wrapped my arms around him and didn't let go, even when he brushed the tears away with his fingertips and kissed the top of my head. After the visitors had died down and everything had dwindled dry, including emotion, I crawled back into my hiding space under the table. There was another problem that made my heart wrench, and that was where I was to live. Father was buried and the hobbit hole's door was closed. It wasn't seemly...I couldn't live alone, and wasn't old enough to marry. I desperately wanted to go with the Cottons, or the Bolgers, or someone...but their families just couldn't take on another child. I was so used to being the only child I had forgotten other families were much, much larger than mine. _

_7 September 3018, of the Third Age_

_15 Halimath 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

_I've been living with the Cottons and it's more than I can bear. I want to shut myself away but I have to help with the little ones, and Rosie's been working harder and harder down at the Green Dragon. That is, until the Gaffer and Sam came to call, along with Bilbo. "Mr. Bilbo's letting Merry, Pippin, and I stay down in Bag End before his 111__th__ birthday," Sam told us. "After that he'd be happy to let Adamanta live there. I would, but I don't think she'd be happy on her own all the time. At least she'd have Frodo round, and she knows Mr. Bilbo well. He would give her good company, I bargain it." I perked up instantly. Bag End was a wondrous place, and though I was miffed about not being able to stay at the Gamgees, I knew he was right. It was just the Gaffer and Sam there, and Sam was old enough to think about getting married and living on his own. Frodo would at least be a friend to me, since Bag End was his, and Mr. Bilbo wasn't going anywhere. "If it's alright, Mrs. Cotton, we'll come get Adamanta in a fortnight, before Mr. Bilbo's party. He was the one who offered to take her..." I sat, still and rigid. Mrs. Cotton sighed. "I suppose, if it really is alright with Mr. Baggins...I know there aren't any..." Sam nodded, knowing she was about to say _women._ "I think it'll be good for her." I clutched the arms of the chair I was sitting in and Rosie smoothed my skirt nervously. "Well, Adamanta, what do you think?" she asked, a sad smile playing at her lips. My eyes left Rosie and took to the floor, instantly attracted. "If..." I said, and then shook my head. "I'd love to stay, Mrs. Cotton, but I know it's taking a toll on you..." I said quietly. "I'll go to Bag End, Mrs. Cotton. If you ever need me..." I gulped. "You'll know where to...where to...where to..." Tears again. Sam and Rosie both hugged me at once, and then jerked away. It startled me into laughter, and I got to my feet to hug them again. _

_21 September 3018, of the Third Age_

_30 Halimath 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

"You have everything?" Rosie asked, folding dresses and stowing them in my pack.

"Yes," I said, kneeling on the floor and rolling a blanket. A few hair ribbons lay on the floor. I picked them up, along with my cloak. Rosie handed the pack over and I put it over my shoulders, pulling the straps uncomfortably. We looked at each other.

Behind my head I'd heard a knock and Sam's quiet hello to Mrs. Cotton.

"Adamanta," she called.

Feeling woozy, I groaned quietly. Rosie followed me down the hall to Sam, wordless. Rosie's siblings stared curiously as Sam took my arm and nodded once.

"I'll see you all soon," I said, but I knew that wouldn't be true. Everything was changing now. Still, Rosie waved till Sam and I had left her threshold and rounded a corner of the road. I didn't speak to him, just followed quietly, shuffling my feet as we took the same path that Poppy, Lily, Estella, Diamond and I had trod hundreds and hundreds of times in the years before. I wasn't likely to see it again.

My father's death was still in my mind and the last two months had been the closest thing to a family I knew I'd ever have, ever again. At least there was Bilbo's party to look forward to, if the day ever came. The Hill climbed in front of my eyes, closer than ever, more beautiful than any hobbit hole I'd ever chanced to meet. I'd often only seen it from afar.

Sam was gazing at me with a look of sorrow and pity as we reached the top of the Hill. I gazed at the ground and then looked around me, where miles of beautiful green hills and hobbit holes stretched from the base of the Hill. Farmlands and grazing animals dotted the green with brown flecks, looking more like little beetles than cows and pigs. It was in that scene that I realized I had fallen in love with this part of Hobbiton all over again. It seemed so long since I'd been there; staying in the Cotton's hole didn't share its beauty. And I realized at last, why Bag End had been built at the top of the Hill. I could remember myself, looking at Mr. Bilbo as though he were utterly insane! The thought forced my lips to crack a smile. I could picture Mr. Bilbo's kind smile at the hobbits' hundred and one stupid questions.

"Why build it on a hill? It isn't fashionable, dear Bilbo...there isn't room for a field or garden..."

I stared at the scene. Being hobbitish, to me it didn't always make sense, why things happened the way they did, but there was always a good reason with a Baggins.

As Sam walked me to the round, green door of Bag End, talking on and on as quickly as he could, the door flung open and I took a jerked step backwards, for there stood Frodo. His blue eyes widened with the sight of me and Sam, and he cleared his throat and attempted to tame his brown curly hair; his mouth frozen in a slightly surprised expression.

"Hello," he said, staring me into my own green eyes. "Welcome to Bag End."


	2. Chapter 2

Where I meet Frodo, his Gardener and Several Cousins, the Dear Lads

_And we'll always be friends forever, won't we?_

--The Fox and the Hound

Frodo opened the door a little wider and gestured for us to come in. The hobbit-hole was comfortably furnished and on a table in the next room, five little cups and a pot of tea was set out as if Frodo knew there would be a fifth guest. But soon he explained that the fifth was for his cousin Bilbo and he had more cups in the kitchen if Gandalf were to arrive as well.

I took my time looking around Frodo's home and everything in it (rounded, open walls, comfortable smooth tiled floors, paintings on the walls, ornate fireplaces in each room, and assorted odd items) while Frodo and Sam discussed me and my situation quietly amongst themselves. I tiptoed on the hardwood floors and felt the walls with a hand while I stared over a particular table holding maps and old pieces of paper with scrawling all over them. Bilbo's collection of his journeys, no doubt. A leather-bound red book sat undisturbed on the only clean part of the room-a beautiful desk, complete with a light and inkwell and pen. I peeled back the cover and read the title: _There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins. _

Sam's voice startled me and I closed the book. "Mister Bilbo agreed to it, takin' her in, Mister Frodo," He pleaded. "I told her, since we know her, lots o' people do...well…I said she could stay. I told the Cottons…"

Their voices grew softer and as I explored deeper and deeper into the hobbit hole, I couldn't hear them anymore. Finally I plodded shyly back, to see Frodo and Sam silently sitting at his table.

After a few moments Frodo heaved a sigh and took a long sip of tea.

"It sounds like a terrible thing," he said, after another long silence.

Sam broke the awkward conversation. "You can bathe, and set yourself up, and then we'll make something for our arriving guests," he added with a friendly smile.

I walked with him as he told me Bag End's history—how Frodo's grandfather had built it for his grandmother, and about Frodo's relatives the Sackville-Bagginses, who wanted Bag End for themselves, and also Bilbo's family, Frodo's cousins, and a little about Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, the rascals who upended me when I was only 12.

"But then again," Sam shrugged while we walked into Frodo's kitchen, "I'm only his gardener, so I don' know for sure. But you must have met Merry and Pippin at one of our grand parties once…!"

I gritted my teeth as I smiled. "We've met once or twice."

Sam took one of my tense hands and covered it with his own before bending down so he was eye-level with me. "Don't get yourself too anxious yet, Miss Adamanta. You've been through a lot in the past few months and the Cottons and Baggins and me, we're always willing here to help out a lost comrade. Besides, I'm sure they'd recognize you and would be gracious to you. Don't think you're intruding on anyone, if you ask me you were meant to come and rattle things up a bit 'round here. A lot o' very…er, normal, _hobbitish_ folk, not much for adventure, and think old Bilbo's crackin'. But then, there you are."

Sam's words comforted me and cheered me quite a bit, and it struck me as to how he had known exactly what I was afraid of before I'd said anything at all. Of course I thought I was pushing into Frodo and Bilbo's quiet life in Bag End, I just didn't say anything. I decided against confessing that I was one of the hobbitish folk, along with Lily and Poppy and Diamond and Estella, who thought Mr. Bilbo was, as Sam said, "crackin'." I smiled though, and nodded a few times.  
"Thank you, so much, Sam," I said. "I was beginning to feel that me, staying at the Cottons', was really stretching them thin, though they wanted to help me so much..."

"They would have kept you if they can, Adamanta. But Mr. Bilbo snatched you up first."

I beamed while Sam shuffled through some things in Frodo's pantry. When he'd turned back to me, holding iron pans and all sorts of food piled in them, he pointed out the bath-room (a large, elegant room) and told me just to set up in one of Frodo's three guest rooms. I took a dress out of my pack and left the rest of my things there, but continued on to the bath-room, which was so fine there was a hearth and pot right in it. I waited for the water to boil so I could have hot, soapy bath without carrying buckets in and out of the hole.

Being so busy for the past few days I was exhausted, relieved, and disgusting. I washed mats out of my hair and scrubbed mud from my elbows and knees. The water was pretty nasty looking once I was through. I dressed myself in a blue gown and hurried back to the kitchen.

Sam, clutching pots and pans of all sorts, invited me in and together we started a delicious stew of potatoes and mushrooms. The stew had barely begun to simmer when three hobbits entered the little hobbit hole—three that I recognized instantly. Beside an old hobbit with graying hair (that was Bilbo, thank you very much) stood two younger hobbits. One had fair curly hair and dark eyes, and was wearing bright yellow. The other, with light brown hair, was wearing green. He looked significantly younger and his greenish eyes blinked furiously as he cocked his head in curiosity, staring fiercely at me. I was suddenly glad I'd washed, after all. I stuck my chin in the air.

"Merry, Pippin, and Frodo's older cousin, Bilbo," Sam put his arm around my shoulders while the hobbit wearing the bright green scarf and jacket rushed forward to sniff the stew and fork out a mushroom. He looked at me and blinked as he chewed the mushroom, looking from the stew to me, and then to his friend.

"Pippin!" Merry scolded, elbowing him. I thought I saw him mouthing "don't stare" to the hobbit named Pippin.

It was Merry and Pippin all right, except they had grown since I had last seen them...a lot. They were almost adults now. And despite our messy past I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing as Pippin popped another mushroom in his mouth and smacked his lips. "What were you saying, Merry?" He asked, before sauntering back to the other.

Merry scowled, and a shadow fell across the breast of his jolly yellow vest, as bright as Pippin's scarf. "Pip, you're not supposed to do _that_," he said. "You do it like _this_." Merry walked to the stew and with a ladle, tossed the shroom into the air and caught it between his teeth before taking a little bow. When he stood back up, the mushroom had disappeared.

"Mmm…" Merry grinned. "Just what I wanted, after a long day."

I clapped with Frodo while Sam shook his head. "As I was saying, this is Bilbo Baggins, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. Merry, Pippin, this is Adamanta Bolo, furthermore known as Mandy, since Adamanta's just too long to say. Anyway, I believe you've met before." They nodded, and I frowned, though now it was in jest.

"I believe I've had the pleasure," Bilbo stooped to take my hand. "Good evening Miss Mandy Bolo, and I must admit I am quite happy to be having you here." He turned to Frodo. "She has grown into a lovely young woman, hasn't she, Frodo? Well, I am off; going to the Gaffer's, my dear boy, if you need anything. He looked back at me once more. "Wonderful to meet you again, my dear," he smiled broadly and with a little nod at the others he waved and left.

Pippin was now looking at me with a strange sort of expression as I stood there, and stepped forward to say hello.

"Good evening, Miss," he said in a little voice.

"Hullo, Pippin," I replied, and Pippin had stepped back again, looking as though he was shaken up for some reason.

Then Merry stepped forward and bowed to me. "At your service, madam," he mocked. "If there's anything to be served in this lovely Hobbiton." He straightened and half-smiled. "I know we haven't gotten along in the past...well, since you'll be around a lot more, I suppose we should end our past quarrels?" He stuck out a hand and wordlessly, and expressionlessly, I shook it.

"So long as you don't find any reason to pull my hair ribbons out," I said, joking with him, and I imagined I saw some relief flow to his face.

After the stew was served, the five of us hobbits sat around Frodo's table, merrily eating and exchanging words about our lives. Pippin made it a prospect to tell the stories of how he and Merry had once again successfully stolen from Farmer Maggot's farm.

Sam shook his head. "I don' get how you can just run around acting like ruffians and givin' all of Hobbiton a bad name. Cousins or no, I don' see how you're related to Mr. Frodo in any way."

Frodo chipped in now, pointing his spoon at Sam. "You would understand if you knew me when I was younger. I used to steal from Maggot's Farm just as often, and I often got caught." Saying this, Frodo scratched the back of his head and grimaced. "Brandy Hall just couldn't wait to get rid of me…"

"I remember," I grinned, and Frodo hung his head in mock shame.

Pippin and Merry burst into loud laughter and excused themselves, returning with pints of ale for Frodo, Sam, and themselves.

"None for you," Merry said jokingly, shaking his finger at me. "You're too young."

We clinked mugs anyway (I had tea, myself) and drank to the Shire. For a few hours we all drained mugs, till Merry and Pippin were in a tizzy and Frodo and Sam were also getting to that point, but were still firmly latched into sober reality.

Merry giggled, holding his mug and petting my head. "I hope no one knows we're gettin' drunk in front of a young girl…"

"Girl, curl, hurl, twirl," Pippin echoed, yawning and wrapping his arms around Merry's shoulders.

"Not that young," I scowled. "Just younger than Pippin."

"Pip, snip, lip, blip, pip-pip-pip..." Pippin giggled.

Next came the prospect of sleeping; Frodo had three bedrooms and five beds. Merry and Pippin called a room for themselves right away (chuckling and dancing around Frodo's house together), but then came the problem of splitting up Sam, Frodo, and me (Bilbo, as he said earlier, was staying at the Gamgees' down Bagshot Row). We ultimately decided that Frodo and I would share a room and Sam would sleep alone.

"Are you sure…?" I asked weakly. "It's alright if I sleep by myself…"

Sam tried smiling. "I'm fine myself, I just don' want you to be alone."

I told Sam goodnight. "If you're sure," I said uncertainly.

"Go on," Sam shooed me. "Merry, Pippin, Frodo an' me, we'll be goin' to bed a little later. But you need sleep, so go on. I've already put your pack in your room."

I smiled and nodded and found everything as he'd told me.

I was already dreaming when Frodo crept into the bed beside mine.


	3. Chapter 3

A Long Expected Party and Not-So Expected Vegetable Raid

_If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world._

--J.R.R. Tolkien

_22 September 3018, of the Third Age_

_1 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Sunlight streamed through the windows of Bag End the next morning, the morning of Bilbo's party, and I opened my eyes listening to a rooster crow. When I fully realized where I was (remembering the day before) I noticed that I was also quite alone. I leapt out of bed, tiptoeing slowly down the hall.

"Frodo? Sam?" I asked cautiously, and cocked my head. From the direction of the kitchen, joyful shouts could be heard and so I walked myself there to find Merry, Pippin, and Frodo cheering aloud as Sam flipped sausages and mushrooms in the air, which smelled delicious.

"Quite the master of culinary arts, Samwise Gamgee!" Frodo laughed, clapping, and Merry joined the excitement with pancake batter.

Soon Pippin noticed me. "Well look who's finally awake!" He cried in his high voice. "I peeked into your room but, you were still sleeping." The other three hobbits turned.

"Come on, join us!" Merry gave the invitation and I gladly accepted.

The scene was so joyous and alive that I couldn't help myself to want to join them; the feeling was contagious. In my nightgown I started frying bacon and mushrooms, and it wasn't long before we had finished the grand breakfast and were sitting together at Frodo's table, exchanging joyous words of conversation. Pippin and Merry had gotten over their drunkenness from the night before and were back to their normal, perky selves.

After the table was cleared, it was decided that we hobbits would leave Bag End and attend to the wide open spaces of the Shire in hopes of letting Bilbo have some peace while planning his party. He wanted his house empty to write, too, and to avoid relatives.

Sam went one way and Frodo another.

"Remember Sam, Gandalf's coming today!" Frodo waved cheerfully, a piece of straw between his teeth and a book in his hands. He waved goodbye and took off into the fields.

Sam himself departed to tend Bag End's garden. "No use lettin' it overgrow for the party," he said after we attempted to stop him.

Thus, I followed Merry and Pippin through the fields of the Shire, stopping only when we reached a wooden pasture. The boys seemed overly excited about it; inside several fat ponies grazed, and beyond it, there was a large, very large, vegetable garden.

"Let's go," Merry said, vaulting over the fence with ease.

"I don't know…" I said nervously, in spite of myself.

"Do you ride?" Pippin asked, blinking innocently.

"Yes…"

"Well, come on then," Pippin replied cheerfully, helping me up.

We approached three of the ponies and Pippin mounted one himself, Merry helped me up and then mounted himself.

"Now we'll wait," Merry said finally, walking his pony in a small circle. "This is where the fun begins."

My pony's ears flicked lazily and I got the nervous idea that "fun" to Merry and Pippin was something different than to be expected. I frowned and pet my mount's neck.

Suddenly the owner of the farm burst out of his barn, waving a pitchfork and screaming, attempting to catch us in the act of stealing ponies, or taking free rides at least. Merry gave a hoot as his pony shied away from the sharp object that its master was holding, bolting in the opposite direction. The other ponies with a whinny bucked and galloped too, until we were in a midst of stampeding animals.

While the boys may have been experts at handling frightened ponies, I was not, and I clung to my steed's back and grabbed tufts of mane to keep myself on his back while he reared and bucked, jumped and sped away from his master. Eventually the ponies calmed and I saw that Merry and Pippin had made it so that the farmer had chased us all the way to his vegetable patch and had cornered us in.

As they slowed, the boys leapt off their ponies gallantly and waved.

"Sorry, but thank you for the ride," Merry said. "We hope you enjoyed it…our little show."

"Yes, well done, very well done, and if I might add," Pippin continued, "thank you for volunteering to participate like that," and they both ducked under the fence to raid the vegetables.  
_Merry and Pippin, you old dogs,_ I couldn't help chuckling, and attempted their stylish jump off my pony. Instead, I fell head-over-heels to the ground and leapt up, trying to run after the boys in my long skirt.

The farmer caught up in anger and tried grabbing me but I rolled under him and jumped the fence just in time to disappear into the cornstalks, never to again be seen.

Inside, Merry and Pippin were laughing, and I panted from fright.

"You are…the craziest…most plucky…hobbits…" I gasped.

"Right…now with that," Merry said. "Let's go have ourselves a party!"

"That was good, very good, Mandy, for your first time," Pippin said. "You didn't get caught."

"Almost," I gasped, scowling.

Grinning as we journeyed back to Bag End, Merry tossed a potato from hand to hand and we chased him mercilessly along the pathways till we could see the Party Tree and all beneath it.

"Ah, the long-expected party," Merry sighed with a smile. "Mr. Bilbo has finally made it to one hundred and eleven."

"We need party clothes," I reminded him with a sheepish grin.

If ever Bilbo had a finer party in Hobbiton, I did not know. Colorful lights and fireworks filled the skies and the sound of music swam over the hills. Down below us, it seemed, were enough hobbits to fill the Shire (which was of course, very accurate).

Pippin, Merry and I were disheveled and covered in leaves and dirt, so we quietly stowed away into Frodo's house to change. I myself put on a green lacy frock with a white pinafore and put my curly hair up in a green ribbon. Stepping out of my room, I admired Merry and Pippin's decorated vests, and held out my arms. "Come along, then," I said.

Pippin took one of my arms and Merry the other, and together the three of us pranced down to Bilbo's grand party.

"Where have you been?" Sam whispered. I looked around for Merry and Pippin but they were gone. The mischief-makers; it figured they had left to cause some sort of mayhem.

"Just…getting some…vegetables," I said shrugging.

"Well…let's eat, then," and Sam led me to where he and Frodo were sitting and drinking ale. As soon as we sat down, mothers and fathers from the West Farthing came over to say hello and give their grievances for my losses. I smiled and nodded politely, and as I turned back to my tea Sam blushed and muttered to himself furiously. I turned around to see a familiar young woman with golden hair and a blue dress eyeing him shyly as she danced.

"Go on!" Frodo grinned. "Ask Rosie for a dance!"

"Oh, Sam," I smiled, thinking of every opportunity Sam had missed because he wouldn't so much as look Rosie in the eye.

"I…think…I'll just have another ale…" Sam muttered. "Knowing Rosie," he added, "She may think little Mandy's my date…"

"Tell her she's my date," Frodo said, seizing Sam's shoulders and thrusting him in Rosie's direction, where Sam found himself in her arms and speechless as they began to dance. "Go, on then!"

Rosie waved to me and smiled as she wrapped her arms around Sam's broad shoulders. "Adamanta!" She called, nearly losing her pretty ribbons as Sam swept her hurriedly under some low branches of the party tree.

The spectacle was so humorous that Frodo and I both began to laugh, and I was suddenly aware of him eyeing me.

"Would you like a dance with me?" he asked. "We can join Sam, so he's not too uncomfortable."

I opened my mouth to agree when the sound of a roaring fire droned out all others.

A colossal dragon made of fire flew from nowhere and over our heads. Shrieks burst out everywhere until the dragon took a sharp turn upwards and exploded in cascade of color and light.

"Fireworks!" I cried excitedly. No matter what age, I still hadn't gotten over the excitement of seeing fireworks. They were unlike anything we had in the Shire.

"Gandalf's fireworks," Frodo winked. "You haven't met the old wizard yet. He's got more where that's from."

"They're wonderful!"

I got a glimpse of the famous wizard himself, chuckling as he picked up a burnt-looking Merry and Pippin by the scruffs of their necks. "Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, you masters of mischief!" He scolded. "I should have known…"

I stifled a laugh_. Petty criminals_, I couldn't help thinking as Gandalf thrust the lads to wash dishes.

"Alright," I replied, "Let's have that dance…" and allowed Frodo to help me to my feet. We were about to walk out to the dance ground when Bilbo climbed on top of a barrel and quieted us all for his birthday speech.

"Oh," Frodo said, sounding disappointed. "Another time, then…"

I nodded and sat beside him, looking around for Sam and Rosie, who somehow had made it all the way across the party.

"SPEECH!" The others called. "SPEECH, BILBO!" Frodo and I joined in.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks!" Cheers sounded from each family as their name was called.

"Beloved Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, and Proudfoots!"

"Proud_feet_!" Yelled Mr. Proudfoot, shaking one of his furry feet as we laughed.

Bilbo laughed and shook his head. "Today is my eleventy-first birthday!"

"Happy birthday," we called, laughing.

"Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

The crowd silenced, looking at one another and back at Bilbo in confusion. I myself could not follow him, but I nodded like it was something wise and important.

"I, uh, I h-have things to do," He added, fiddling with something in his pocket. "I've put this off for _far too long_… I regret to announce… that this is the end. I bid you all a very fond farewell."

Murmurs of confusion echoed around us all. I joined them.

"What does he mean, Frodo? Frodo?" I tried asking for answers, but he merely shook his head.

"I am leaving now," Bilbo continued slowly, groping for something in his pocket. "Good-bye."

And he vanished, just like that.

Immediate and utter chaos broke out then, as hobbits rushed to the barrel and all around, searching for some clue as to where and why this very unnatural occurrence had happened.

Frodo scrambled off, shouting his cousin's name, but soon made his way back to me, holding his hands on my shoulders. "I don't want you getting lost in this crowd," he said, and led me to a clearing some distance away from the panicky hobbits.

"Mandy? Mandy! MANDY!" Sam was calling my name with Rosie in tow, and Merry and Pippin, who had cleaned up considerably since we last saw them, were running from the other side.

"Bilbo just dis…"

"What happened?"

"What's going on?"

"Bilbo just…"

"Why'd he go?"

"Where is he now?"

"He's supposed to be taking care of me!"

"He disappeared just…"

"Frodo?"

"OY!" Frodo cried, raising his hands and stopping the questions. "Let's just get back to Bag End in one piece."

We took a long walk around the crowds and by the time we reached Frodo's home we were all tired, and I especially, but not too tired to notice Gandalf sitting by Frodo's fire muttering to himself.

"Ow," Frodo said suddenly, and picked up something from the floor under his foot. "Gandalf?" He asked quietly, and gave us a signal to go to bed.

"But…" Merry whined. "You can't boss us! We can stay if we want to!"

"Because we're mature adults too!" Pippin complained, and Merry gave him a sharp look. Pippin cringed.

"Go…to…bed!" Frodo begged of us, a look of anger spreading across his face.

Sam said good-night to Rosie, and Merry and Pippin stomped to their room, complaining about being treated like little hobbit-children, and I was too tired to care that Frodo and Gandalf were in fact discussing the peculiar thing he held in his palm.


	4. Chapter 4

I Celebrate the Color Green on my Birthday and We Find More Adventures Unexpectedly

_23 September 3018, of the Third Age_

_2 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

The next morning, September 23, was my birthday, and I was 28 years old. When I awoke, all the mystery from the night before had vanished and I found instead that four grinning boy hobbits were standing around me.

"Would you like your presents now?" Sam asked. "Or after breakfast?"

"Or after second breakfast?" Pippin added hopefully.

"After breakfast," I said firmly, pushing the bedcovers aside and walking straight to Bag End's front door to greet the warm sunshine of the Shire. "Good morning," I said quietly, to no one in particular. I jumped slightly when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Frodo.

"We've made pancakes for you," he said softly. "Happy birthday. Unfortunately, our party won't be as splendid as Bilbo's last night."

"He was eleventy one," I said shrugging. "That's different. If I ever get to be that old, I'll be able to enjoy a party like his, mark me."

Frodo smiled weakly, crossing his arms and standing with me, looking out at the view. I looked down self-consciously, still in my nightgown, and blushed, looking back at Frodo before retiring to my (our) room to bathe and get dressed.

True to their word, the hobbits had gifts prepared for me after breakfast but before second breakfast, all wrapped in boxes and ribbons of different colors: a blue one from Frodo, a red one from Sam, a yellow from Merry, and green from Pippin. I opened each gently; and couldn't help but feel a glow of love for each hobbit who made me a beautiful gift…yet barely knew me.

Pippin had knitted a beautiful soft scarf from material so silky and flexible and green that I swear it was made from the very grasses of the Shire itself ("It matches yours," I grinned). Merry had bought me two journals; evergreen colored leather-bound books with creamy blank pages and an eagle-feather quill pen ("For writing," I said excitedly). Sam's gift was by far the most touching; a brown cord necklace with green glass-blown beads and a smooth hand carved pendant of a Shire flower. Sam revealed that he had, in fact, made it himself, with a little help from Rosie Cotton, and I moved on to Frodo's gift last.

It was a traveling cloak made from the warmest and lightest material possible of a deep shade of green that buttoned at the neck and was complete with a hood.

"It should match every other green item you possess," he said with a chuckle. "Now, there's one more green thing you're getting tonight, and we're all included in it."

"The Green Dragon!" Merry and Pippin cheered. "Ale for us!"

"And none for you unfortunately," Frodo added. "You're still, as you know, too young."

The Green Dragon Pub was alive with hobbits celebrating being young and happy and able to drink. The boys waved hello to a few familiar faces, including Rosie Cotton, whereas Sam blushed and murmured to himself repeatedly. Pippin, Frodo, and Merry got their ale and jumped around the tables, singing drinking songs and ultimately, just to be embarrassing, sang a song about me, inciting a chorus of "happy birthdays" that lasted throughout the night. Past midnight was the time when we finally and merrily made our way back to Bag End, Merry and Pippin still singing their chorus drinking song. As they skipped, Frodo and I joined arms and sang loudly with them.

"_Hey, Ho, to the bottle I go _

_To heal my heart and drown my woe! _

_Rain may fall and wind may blow, _

_But there still be... many miles to go! _

_Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain_

_And the stream that falls from hill to plain! _

_But, better than rain or rippling brook…"_

Merry ceased and allowed Pippin to finish solo.

"… _is a mug of beer inside this Took!"_

…And I had to admit to myself that it was a perfect way to spend my 28th birthday.

_30 September 3018, of the Third Age_

_9 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

It was the evening of the day one week after my birthday that changed everything. Sam had once again insisted on trimming Frodo's garden and Merry, Pippin and I were faced with boredom, so I began writing in my new books with another thank you to Merry while the scoundrels headed down to the Green Dragon again.

While in my room, I heard Bag End's door open as they returned and Frodo gasp in fear. I jumped, ready to go to him, when Gandalf's voice sounded next to his, asking, "Is it secret? Is it safe?"

After a moment of silence (I had gotten to my feet and pressed my ear against the door) I heard Frodo cry out again. "What are you doing!?"

The rest of the conversation was too muffled to hear, but I was too scared to go any farther out into the hall, and their voices could only be heard when Gandalf threw something into a table and I could make out Sam's shouts.

"I wasn't dropping no eaves sir, honest! I was cutting the grass under the window there, if you follow me."

"A little late for trimming the verge, don't you think?" Was Gandalf's suspicious reply. "What did you hear? SPEAK!"

"N-n-n-nothing important!"

I leaned farther into the door so that the entire left side of my face was flattened against the surface, and I had to hold the door with my hand to keep balance. Certainly, strange things had been happening here.

"That is, I heard a good deal about a Ring and a Dark Lord and something about the end of the world but... Please, Mister Gandalf sir, don't hurt me. Don't turn me into anything…unnatural!"

That made me smile behind the door (at Sam's stuttering and not at what he was talking about) and as I went to turn back to my writing, the door shifted and with a grunt I fell over, pressing the back of my hand into my mouth to keep from being discovered eavesdropping, and perchance being turned into something…unnatural.

_1 October 3018, of the Third Age_

_10 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time_

I awoke the next morning with Merry and Pippin by my bed, looking heartsick.

"They're gone!" Merry cried.

"Who?" I asked groggily.

"Sam and Frodo!" Pippin said anxiously. "They've left…with Gandalf…here…"

I was suddenly awake as I sat up quickly and looked at both of the boys, terribly nervous.

Pippin thrust a note at me and I read it over quickly, then again, and again.

_Dearest Mandy, Peregrin, and Meriadoc: _

_Sam and I have gone with Gandalf; do not try to follow us, please. There is an important task to be done, and I have to do it. If you would be so kind to take care of Bag End in our absence as not to alert the Sackville-Bagginses to think that they can take it…would be most helpful. _

_Miss you all, we will see you (hopefully) soon. _

_Regards from Frodo Underhill and Samwise Gamgee_

"See?" Pippin shrieked, pointing at the note and jumping up and down near the bedside. "SEE? He's _gone_ and left us for good. When is he ever going to come back? When?"

Merry sighed loudly and rolled his eyes at Pippin's paranoia.

I reread the note a fourth time. _There is an important task to be done, _he had written_. And I have to do it. _

"What sort of task, I wonder?" I whispered with amazement. Finally, I stood up, and began re-packing my bag. "There's only one thing we hobbits can do," I said happily, much to Merry and Pippin's surprise.

"What?" Merry asked, and then he grinned. "I bet you're gonna do exactly what Frodo Bag…I mean, Mr. Underhill, told you NOT to do, aren't you?"

"Well, yes," I laughed. "We're going to find them. We've got to, haven't we?"

I dressed myself behind a stand in a warm, red dress, the sturdiest thing I owned, and wrapped my scarf around my neck. Sam's necklace stayed on, as it had for the past week. In my bag I packed extra clothes and food and …and anything else I didn't want to leave.

"We'll stop by Maggot's farm along the way," Merry said mischievously. "Just for a few…er, supplies you can say."

I frowned as I buttoned my green cloak and untucked the scarf from underneath, but if it was one last "fun" moment in the Shire we'd have together, I wanted them to have it. Since when was I giving them permission to do anything, anyway? I was only the newcomer.

"OK," I sighed, pulling my pack on. "So let's go."

Walking through Maggot's crop was a death sentence, I was sure. Any moment I anticipated Maggot discovering the boys and I smuggling out cabbages, carrots, corn, and mushrooms. Jumping at the sound of barking dogs, I threw my arms around Pippin's waist and clung there like a frightened hobbit-child.

"Oh my," Pippin said, bemused.

"It's Maggot," Merry said, hearing Maggot's angry shouts and seeing his scythe coming after us, and then with shouts of "RUN!" He took off into the cornstalks. I followed Merry, too scared to stop sprinting, sure as the scarf round my neck was green that Maggot's dogs were after us, and my fear sent my heart galloping when we ended up crash-landing into someone.

"Farmer Maggot, very sorry…I can explain!" I cried, spitting out leaves, for I was sure the hobbit I was lying beside was he. It was Frodo, laughing hysterically at my pathetic apologies.

"What have you been doing?" He asked accusingly, still laughing.

"Frodo!" Pippin giggled, from on top of him. "Merry, look, it's Frodo Baggins…uh, Underhill!"

"Hello, Frodo," Merry grinned. "Nice try, losing us like that."

Sam scowled. "Get off him! Frodo, are you alright?"

"What's the meaning of all this?" Pippin asked, ready for an explanation about the sudden departure.

The dogs barking once again set us on our feet, but I couldn't, not with Frodo about to leave again. I clasped his cloak in my hands and stared him in the eye.

"You're not leaving without us," I said firmly. "So don't even think about…"

"No time for that," Merry cried, laughing. "Come on!"

We stumbled through the corn, listening to Pippin explain why Maggot was overreacting and counting off the last few days' worth of stolen crop. Once we had broken through, we all stopped dead at a cliff, where I brushed cornstalk and dirt off me.

"Whoa," I gasped. "That was a close…"

Sam didn't stop in time and sent us rolling down the cliff, landing one on top of another and I found myself squeezed between Pippin and Frodo again.

"Trust a _Brandy_buck and a _Took_," Sam grumbled, but he meant it in jest, and we giggled.

"What? It was just a detour," Merry assured me. "A shortcut. Mandy's idea."

"Was _not_," I chortled.

"Shortcut to what?" Sam grunted.

"Mushrooms!" Pippin cried happily, and scrambled to get them, with the others on his heels. I rolled painfully off of Frodo and brushed twigs out of my hair, gratefully accepting his hand to help me to my feet. He looked distantly down the path.

"I think we should get off the road," he told me, and I nodded, still standing awkwardly, wringing my hands together in front of me. It was a nervous habit.

A squealing noise raised the hairs on my neck, not seeming to alarm the others, a gust of swirling wind spun towards us.

This time, Frodo was shouting. "_Get off the road, quick!_"

He seized my hand and pulled me into a little ditch under a tree's roots, where Sam, Merry, and Pippin began dividing their mushrooms, and Frodo and I huddled in fright.

A horse's clopping hooves and snort stopped the mushroom raid, and the other three became as serious as we, giving us scared glances. Frodo turned his head towards mine and he looked up, through a hole in the root. I followed his gaze to see a horses' black, sweaty fetlock and hoof stomp the ground. I jerked my head forward again, quivering.

Sharp metal hit dirt as the black rider jumped to the ground and bent over the hole, quick as anything, making a noise as if he were attempting to smell us out.

My breath came in sharp gasps and I held it for as long as I could, trying to steady my chest and mind so my heavy breathing and kicking heart wouldn't give us away. Sam's hand found my arm and squeezed it comfortingly.

Frodo was fighting his own battle, holding a golden ring between his fingers and was about to put it on when Sam reached over and startled him out of the trance.

Merry, smart Merry, sent the bag of mushrooms flying to distract the rider and it leapt back onto its steed and galloped off with a squeal that sent waves of fright and cold into me. Immediately we fled in the opposite direction, zigzagging through the woods till nightfall. We crouched and hid and ran, listening for some clue, and our hearts never really calmed down.

"What is going on?" Pippin gasped after a long run, where we were spying through some bushes.

"I don't know," I mouthed.

"That black rider was looking for something, or some_one_," Merry accused, turning to Frodo. "Frodo?"

"Get down!" Pippin cried, jerking my cloak and pulling me down, for the rider suddenly came into view over the ridge ahead.

Something told me the ring Frodo had was no ordinary band of gold.

"We need to get to Bree," Frodo said softly as he could.

_Bree?! _That was so far...

"Right," Merry replied, nodding, not believing our new dilemma. "Buckleberry Ferry…Follow me!"

Running through the woods, frightened out of our minds, the black rider caught our "scent" and burst out of the trees, screeching while its horse turned this way and that. Our hobbit sense told us to scatter and dodge the heavy horse, confusing it, before sprinting off, following Merry's lead.

"This way!" He screamed. "Follow me!"

We ran to the dock and boarded the ferry, but Frodo was still far behind, running for his life, having been stopped by a second rider. I tried leaping back to shore to help but Sam grasped my cloak, for the ferry was pulling out.

"Frodo run!" I cried. "RUN!"

The others joined in encouragement as the horse behind gathered speed and Frodo made a last effort, jumping as far as he could from the dock to the ferry. The horse, seeing the water, halted suddenly, hooves skidding, and reared with a snort and the black rider screeched again, burning my very sensitive ears.

"How far to the nearest crossing?" Frodo asked, gasping, as four black riders galloped back through the woods. I clutched at his cloak, giving him a reassuring squeeze and he gave me a look that plainly said _Thank You._

"Brandywine Bridge," Merry sounded just as frightened as he as he pushed his pole through the river. "Twenty miles."

"What a wonderful day this has been," Pippin attempted at humor. "What else could possibly go wrong?"

We had to pull our hoods over our heads as we reached Bree, for it began to downpour in torrents.

"Lovely, just lovely," Pippin replied to Mother Nature.


	5. Chapter 5

The Events that Occur When One Arrives at Bree with Evil in Tow

_Are you frightened?_

_Yes._

_Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you._

--Strider

We reached the gate of Bree not later than 9:00 by Shire time, and the gatekeeper reluctantly let us in, though curious as to why five hobbits were leaving the Shire and entering Bree this time of night. Everything in Bree was rain-drenched, lumpy with sparkling drops and _huge_, as hobbits were, compared to men, half their size (and thus dubbed "Halflings" by the Big People). After much jostling and cursing from the Big People, we reached and shakily entered the Inn of the Prancing Pony. Shouts and cheers sounded around the thick air along with some strange tunes tapped out by drinking men, and our heads just barely touched the top of the desk where the innkeeper caught our eye.

"Good evening Little Masters," he said kindly. His face was jolly and red and my heart kindled for Bree. "If you're looking' for accommodation we've got some nice, cozy, hobbit-sized rooms, available, Mr…uh…"

"Underhill," Frodo said slowly. "My name is Underhill. We're friends of Gandalf the Grey; will you please tell him that we've arrived?"

"Gandalf…haven't seen him in six months," Butterbur replied to an unhappy Frodo.

"What do we do now?" Sam asked, hushed.

Frodo said nothing before buying us all some drinks (I had tea, myself) and getting us a table. Merry excused himself after a moment and returned with a _much larger_ mug of ale, interrupting Pippin and my arm wrestling competition.  
"What is _that_?" Pippin gaped, in awe of Merry's HUGE tankard.

"This, my friend, is a pint," Merry replied, not taking his admiring eye off his treasure.

"It comes in pints?" Pippin said excitedly, before turning to us and saying firmly, "I'm getting one." He rushed off to the bar and climbed on a stool with the big people.

"You've had a whole half already!" Sam yelled after him disapprovingly before shaking his head and nudging Frodo. "That fellow's done nothing but stare at you since we've arrived."

I turned my head in curiosity, thinking Sam was talking about Pippin or possibly Butterbur…But in a corner, I saw, a man sat smoking with a hood covering his face staring right back. I turned away quickly, uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Excuse me," Frodo asked Butterbur, as he was passing by, "Who is that?"

"Oh that? That's one of them rangers from the North, what his right name is I've never heard, but 'round here…he's called Strider. I believe there's something of a set of verses written right about him, or so Gandalf said."

"Strider," Frodo repeated to himself, twirling his ring round his fingers and seeming to doze.

There we sat for several minutes, until Pippin's high voice startled us.

"Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins…he's right over there…he's my second cousin once removed on his mother's side…and my third cousin twice removed on his father's side, if you follow me!"

Frodo jumped to his feet and pushed his way through, grabbing Pippin's arm. "Pippin!" He cried, and Pippin shook him off.

"Steady on, Frodo," he complained as Frodo fell back and his ring flew into the air. He caught it on his finger and immediately disappeared. Pippin gasped, with a face that clearly said, _what have I done?_

I jumped up, but Sam stopped me, looking wildly around but trying to remain unnoticed. After a minute, we saw Strider jerk Frodo up, speak with him, and then push him up the stairs where the 'accommodations' were. Gathering the other two hobbits, we grabbed weapons of all kinds (a stool, a candle, and our fists) and followed quickly.

Sam kicked open the door, and Sam hollered at Strider, who was brandishing a sword at him.

"Stand off, or I'll have you, Longshanks!"

"Oy he's got a sword!" I cried.

Strider set his sword at his side as a sort of invitation to let us come in. "You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that alone will not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."

"Who?" I asked, but received no answer.

Anxiously we helped Strider set up decoy hobbits (with pillows) under the covers of the little hobbit-sized beds and then retired to his room. The five of us hobbits shared one man-sized bed, since we were so small compared to it, and as I attempted to sleep, Frodo's restlessness kept me awake.

"Frodo, go to bed, you'll feel better," I said, but a screech stopped me short as the black riders entered Bree. "They're here," I breathed and clutched my blankets while Strider fixed his gaze on us, emotionless at the prospect of nine black riders suddenly rushing in to kill us all. I decided, with a glare, not to trust Strider, or anyone else associated with black riders. Across the inn, Frodo and I heard upset screeches from the black riders, since they had found our pillow decoys instead of hobbits. At this, Strider leaned towards the window casually, watching the riders remount and speed off into the night. Sam, Pippin, and Merry finally jerked awake.

"What are they?" Frodo whispered.

"They were once men. Great kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will.

"They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring…drawn to the power of the One." Strider fixed a stern and serious eye on Frodo as he finished. "They will never stop hunting you."

Frodo swallowed, pale, and I shivered subtly, pulling my blanket tighter around myself. Sam shook my shoulder comfortingly, but it didn't help, and I never did get to sleep.

Leaving Bree with Two in Our Party who Don't Know about Second Breakfast

_An apple a day keeps the doctor away_

-Old Proverb

_2 October 3018, of the Third Age_

_11 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time_

The next morning, we left Bree, as we had left the Shire, except this time we had a human, a pack pony, and were fleeing from nine Ringwraiths.

"Where are you taking us?" Frodo asked, easing our questions, plodding quickly along behind Strider.

"Into the wild," Strider replied without so much as an expression change or glance at us, not to mention an 'if you please.' Ha! What I was waiting for was for him to take the cursed ring and let us alone.

I plodded alongside Sam and his pony, Bill. He'd taken a liking to Sam after being abused in Bree.

I wanted to ride, but he was so tied down with luggage that it would be out of question, and I besides that, I knew the others were as weary as I.

From my side Merry asked Frodo, "How do we know this 'Strider' is a friend of Gandalf's?"

"I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer and feel fouler. Besides, we have no choice but to trust him," Frodo replied unhappily, thinking, like me, of the Ringwraiths and what they would have done to us if we had not met Strider in Bree. Look fairer and feel fouler? I increased my pace a step, deep in thought, and deeply troubled.

"But where is he leading us?" Sam asked. I wanted to know the same thing. We were on a journey to a place no one knew where.

"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee," Strider responded after overhearing the question, thank goodness, for I didn't want any more unspecific answers. "To the House of Elrond."

"Did you hear that?" Sam asked excitedly. "We're going to see the elves!"

That startled my curiosity for a while, as Sam began to tell me everything he knew about elves. Soon I was just as excited as he.

The walk continued on for about an hour until we stopped to start a fire for second breakfast, but Strider stopped impatiently to remind us that we did not stop until nightfall. Hearing this, we five jerked up to either glare at Strider or stare in disbelief. I was so hungry I'd already taken a piece from the sausage Sam was planning to cook.

"But…what about breakfast?" Pippin burst out.

"You've already had it," Strider attempted to have the last word and turned again to continue the journey.

"We've had one, yes," Pippin retorted. "But what about second breakfast?"

Strider continued walking away, shaking his head, and Pippin's eyes widened in surprise.

"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," Merry said unhappily.

Pippin leapt to his feet in alarm and the rest of us followed. My stomach was rumbling itself, and I felt weary from the night before. "What about elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?"

"Wouldn't count on it," I said unhappily as apples flew out from the woods. I caught a few and passed them to Pip and Frodo and Sam, keeping two for myself. Another hit Pippin in the head and he looked around warily, as though something mysterious was sending apples at him.

"Pippin!" Merry called impatiently, and we all hastened our pace.

_6 October 3018, of the Third Age_

_15 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time_

Later that week, after crossing through the Midgewater Marshes, we came to the watchtower of Amon Sûl, a large cloud shaped mound above the ground with a watchtower set up top. Amon Sûl translated to The Windy Hill, a.k.a Weathertop. Strider thrust our packs down and took the pony's reins.

"We shall rest here tonight," he told us, as we collapsed, exhausted, under the stone mound.

I was grateful to him for allowing us at last to sleep, and was eager to rest up for the long days ahead.

Strider, holding the pony, bent down and opened a pack which revealed several short swords, which he tossed to us and we caught clumsily. "These are for you. Keep them close. I'm going to have a look around. Stay here."

As if we were small children, he was talking in small words and short sentences right to the point. Clearly he was not used to being around hobbits.

I was hungry; but not so hungry as to wait for Sam and Merry to prepare something. We were all weary, of course, but Frodo being the most aware and most terrified of the five, he wanted some peace and settled down to sleep. I rested my head against the rock and tried to ignore the soreness in my arms and legs. Before I knew it, lulled by Pippin, Merry, and Sam's mumbling together, I was too, asleep.

When I awoke, I was being shaken out of a wonderful dream of the Shire by Frodo, and the shriek of a Ringwraith. Immediately I was wide awake and trembling again, unsheathing my sword and pulling my cloak tightly around myself. I felt Frodo's arm slip to my back and give it a gentle pat before taking my arm and motioning up some stairs.

"Go!" He cried, and I, though reluctant to leave him, ran bravely with the others.

At the top, there was no escape, as Frodo joined us and we circled him, looking around, terrified. I was shivering and Merry, his face full of pallor, nodded to me, telling me not to be afraid…

There was no where to go. We stood on a rounded, stone floor, and around us were the crumbling walls of the watchtower. Ringwraiths approached from all sides and the watchtower was set on a hill that dropped steeply on all sides. The four boys and I backed into each other, shivering, and clutching our swords with fright.

I was trembling uncontrollably as five Ringwraiths ascended slowly onto the watchtower, as though to taunt us, surrounding us and pulling out their long swords. And, in spite all our fears (Pippin was shaking too) we knew it was Frodo they wanted and we had to defend him. Unfortunately, Sam, brandishing a sword ("Back, you Devils!") did not frighten them and the Ringwraiths shoved him out of the way as easily as tossing an apple or something of that sort.

Merry, Pippin, and I stepped together in front of Frodo, whimpering, and the next thing I knew, an iron hand was gripping my cloak and throwing me out of its way. I was unaware of my cries of surprise; I only heard Pippin and Merry yelp as they were tossed aside.

I was flung against a statue and blocked out the shrill screeches of the Ringwraith, hanging in a limbo of being conscious and not. I was only partially aware of Frodo's predicament. He was backing away from the wraiths and all of a sudden, had disappeared. The wraiths were still standing over him. I shook my head and started to get to my feet, still holding my sword, and Sam joined me, as Merry and Pippin were still too dazed. In an instant, the tallest of the five had thrust his knife down, viciously, through the air into something on the ground, and the other four wraiths turned to us, to finish us off. I swallowed my fear and dodged them as Strider leapt with a torch onto the watchtower, chasing the wraiths away.

Frodo had somehow wrenched the Ring off his finger and had reappeared, screaming. I dropped my sword and rushed to his side with Sam.

"Frodo!" We both cried.

"Oh, Sam," He said weakly, and I took his hand in mine, feeling his pale forehead with the other.

"Strider," Sam said, looking around. "We need Strider!"

Merry and Pippin reached Frodo's side with Strider in tow. He picked up a knife from the ground as Frodo continued to cry out with agony.

"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," Strider said grimly, holding the knife's hilt as the blade dissolved with the wind. As if we knew what that was! "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine." He picked Frodo up like a child and we followed, still hearing wraith shrieks in the distance. "Hurry!" He said, urging us along.

"We're six days from Rivendell!" Sam cried angrily to Strider. "He'll never make it!"

My legs hurt and I was still quivering from when I hit my head at Weathertop, and hearing that Frodo might not survive sent my head spinning and my heart hurting.

Strider ignored us. "Hold on, Frodo," he whispered, slowing just a bit.

I reached my hand out to brush some hair out of Frodo's fair face, but he suddenly stirred and cried out.

"_Gandalf!"_

The call echoed in the dark.


	6. Chapter 6

Life with Strider, Alone on the Road to Rivendell, and Where I Meet Peregrin Took

_There I lay staring upward, while the stars wheeled over... _

_Faint to my ears came the gathered rumour of all lands: _

_The springing and the dying, the song and the weeping_

_And the slow everlasting groan of overburdened stone…_

--J.R.R. Tolkien

We reached the Trollshaws where the other hobbits and I sat in solitude, humming to comfort Frodo, still basking in his own pain, oblivious to us.

Stone trolls hovered above our heads. Sam bent over Frodo, with false hopes. "Look Mister Frodo, it's Mister Bilbo's trolls!" His face fell suddenly.

Frodo squealed and squeaked unnaturally, gasping for air and attempting to fight his fate.

The pitiful looks on Merry and Pippin's faces as they watched their cousin suffer were too much to bear for me, so I sat with them and we waited in sorrow together while Strider sent Sam off looking for Kingsfoil or something of that sort. _Anything to help Frodo,_ I prayed. _Anything._

The sound of a horse set us on alarm, until we saw the horse was white. I jumped to my feet. A lovely woman rode into the clearing, dismounted, and walked to Frodo, speaking in Elvish to him. She bent over him in a dress of deep green, her long dark hair done perfectly. Her lips looked painted and her eyes...mystical. Her pointed ears gave her away.

"Frodo…" she began, speaking in a language so beautiful I couldn't find the strength to tear away from her swiftly moving lips.

"Who is she?" Merry asked in a hush, wiping his eyes.

"She's an elf," Sam murmured, mystified.

"He's fading!" The woman told Strider, and suddenly, as I gazed upon Frodo's face, she seemed to look upon me, as though she and I were the only ones who understood. "He's not going to last," She said anxiously to Strider. "We must get him to my father. I've been looking for you for two days."

"Where are you taking him?!" Merry cried, scrambling to his feet. I grasped his arm in his outburst.

"Merry," I said between gritted teeth. "She's helping him."

The woman continued to talk with Strider, ignoring Merry. "There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know."

Strider, glancing at our faces, began to speak in elvish with her, and as he spoke, the woman shook her head and like they were debating, Strider pleaded with her, continuing the conversation as in soft bells. All the while I watched in fascination. The elvish language had captivated me, and I realized how rural and enclosed the Shire was from the rest of the world.

"What are they saying?" Pippin asked, but no one had an answer, so he stayed quiet.

The elvish woman defended herself, or so it seemed. "Frodo…I do not fear them." She said it reassuringly, but what was odd was that Strider seemed afraid for her, as though they were…

"I think they're in love," I whispered to Merry. He shrugged.

She mounted her horse, taking care to hold Frodo tightly in front of her. Strider bent close.

"Ride hard; Ride hard and don't look back."

The elf Arwen whispered to her horse who she named as Asfaloth, and they galloped off. The five of us that remained watched them go.

"What are you doing?!" Sam cried. "Those wraiths are still out there!"

Strider didn't take his eyes off Arwen and the horse until they were completely out of sight. "Come," he said with a sigh. "We must continue our path to Rivendell. Frodo will be safe, protected by the elves' power, if Arwen reaches the ford in time. If not…"

Sam and I exchanged fearful glances, anxious that the wraiths would burst out of the woods and kill us; that Frodo would not survive the night…

Merry put a comforting arm around my shoulders and Sam did the same. It was another six-or-seven day walk to Rivendell, one that was completed in total silence. Pippin cried mostly, and we were so sore that we skipped second breakfasts and elevensies without complaint. Strider led us, worried about Arwen and Frodo, not bothering to give orders, and at night as we camped, he sat off by himself, singing in elvish.

"What was her name?" I asked Strider, trying to lighten the mood. Or do something.

"Arwen. Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond."

"And you love her?"

He did not answer me at first. "What is it of your concern?" He asked casually.

"It is not. Or, rather, it was a thought, when I saw you talking. You do love her, don't you?"

"It does not matter. She will take the ships into the west and I shall never see her again." Strider tossed a piece of wood into the fire and sparks shot up into the night. The fire burned and crackled. The glow flickered on Strider's and my face. "Why don't you go off to sleep, young hobbit? You'll need it."

"Why should I trust you?" I asked him, finally.

"Haven't I saved your lives more than enough times?" He gritted his teeth. "I give you no reason not to trust me. If I wanted to give you in to the Dark Lord I could have had you at Barad-Dûr long ago, where you would be now asking for your death."

"But you have not given a reason why we should," I said, wondering what Barad-Dûr was and why he was telling me I would be wanting death. Hadn't I done all I could to survive so far?

"Alright, little hobbit," he smiled. "Besides saving your life, more than once might I add, taking you to the house of the elves, showing love for an elf, and sending Frodo to safety, I will grant your request once more. Has Gandalf ever told you of a set of verses Bilbo had written of me? So that the real Strider could recite them, but a false one could not?"

I nodded, because Butterbur had mentioned something of that sort in Bree.

"Well, since you do not trust me, I shall indeed recite them for you.

'_All that is gold does not glitter, _

_Not all those who wander are lost; _

_The old that is strong does not wither, _

_Deep roots are not reached by the frost. _

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken, _

_A light from the shadows shall spring; _

_Renewed shall be blade that was broken, _

_The crownless again shall be king.'_"

He smiled again. "Does that do justice?"

I nodded again. "It's a fine set of verses, there, Strider," I yawned. "What did you say about Barad-Dûr and me asking for death?"

Strider shook his head. "Hobbits," I fancied he muttered under his breath. "Barad-Dûr. Very Well. It is the house of the Dark Lord, his tower in Mordor, where he would have you tortured far further than you could imagine...you would give up those you love, and admit to anything they ask of you, even if it was not true...and you would eventually beg to be killed so that you would not have to suffer anymore..." he shrugged once. "But do not think of such things as you dream. You are safe here, and soon you will be safer still. Good-night, little hobbit."

I nodded and tucked myself up to go to sleep.

_9 October 3018, of the Third Age_

_18 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

I had trouble falling asleep the third night. I tossed and turned, listening to Merry and Sam's peaceful snores, and Pippin lay beside me, still and silent, as though he were restless but was attempting to sleep himself.

Eventually Pippin sat up, surprising me. "You know what?" His eyes were red and puffy and his voice was congested. "I'm afraid for Frodo and I'm afraid for myself. But I really feel alone, because everyone's worried for themselves and Frodo, but no one else."

Whether he meant it to make sense or not, I nodded. "I just want us all to arrive in Rivendell safely."

Pippin's eyes welled up again, and he sniffed. "I miss the Shire," he whispered. "I miss my sisters...and my home...and Frodo..." and he burst into tears, his hands held tight over his eyes in shame.

I couldn't think of a better moment to embrace him, crying myself, till Pippin had calmed, his arms still clasped around me. "I want to sing to ease the trouble," he said softly. "I haven't sung in such a long time. Strider wouldn't let me, or something like that. I feel like I must, now, though…I just feel like…" His little voice as we lay on our backs, looked up, our hands clasped together rang out into the skies. The wood was thick but not so thick as to block out the stars. Even in the shadow of night, the light made it through.

"_Upon the hearth, the fire is red; beneath this roof there is a bed. _

_But not yet weary are our feet, still round the corner we may meet _

_A sudden tree or standing stone that none have seen but we alone. _

_Tree and flower, leaf and grass, let them pass, let them pass. _

_Hill and water under sky, pass them by…pass them by."_

Pippin's voice suddenly grew quieter as he ended the soft melodies. "My mother sang this when I was a young lad. It was my lullaby," he whispered. "But she has gone..."

"I'm so sorry," I said quietly, lowering my head. "I understand…"

"You remind me so much of her," Pippin said with efforts to smile. "Like you were meant to come, just for me…"

I was touched by his sudden loss of innocence and his small steps into another, more perilous world, as he continued the song, edging closer to me, closer, till our shoulders and legs touched. His voice cried out into the night, and the lyrics touched me in ways I couldn't imagine a simple Shire song could.

"_Home is behind, the world ahead, and there are many paths to tread _

_Through shadow to the edge of night, until the stars are all alight. _

_Then world behind and home ahead, we'll wander back to home and bed. _

_Fire and lamp and meat and bread, away to bed, away to bed. _

_Mist and shadow, cloud and shade, all shall fade…all shall fade…"_

Hearing the last note ring into the skies, I found myself falling into a deep sleep, thankful that Pippin was beside me, and that we were both alive, and that he had lain close enough to me so that I could feel his body trembling.

_All shall fade, all shall fade. _

The House of Elrond in Rivendell, and How we Came to Be a Part of a Fellowship

_And now…let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure._

--Albus Dumbledore

_21 October 3018, of the Third Age_

_30 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

There is not much to tell about the arrival into Rivendell, except the beauty of the place. Elaborate designed architecture was etched into the forested mountainside and set in a beautiful waterfall filled valley. Frodo was there, asleep and healing, and we were not allowed to see him. For three days, Merry, Pippin, and I paced the elvish city, admiring the sights and ignoring harping stares from the fair people. However, Sam would not stoop so low to let his master be without him for a minute. He snuck inside so often that Lord Elrond and Strider had to let him visit. But for all else, it was a solid "NO."

_24 October 3018, of the Third Age_

_3 Blotmath 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

I let the elves see me in my dirty red dress and cloak, until at last they could not stand it and told me kindly I could bathe myself and my dress. It was my first bath in nearly two weeks, and I was relieved to feel the warm water and I blew bubbles from my nose, letting my hair float around. The suds in the water, and the fluffy towels as I dried made me feel light as air. Till Pippin pounded on the door, that is.

"Don't open the..." I cried. He pushed it open a crack.

"Frodo's awake!" he cried through the door. Finally he scampered off, letting the door slam behind him.

Hearing the words, I didn't care Pippin had interrupted the peace. I was dressed and on my feet and running, rushing towards Frodo who was walking with Sam; Frodo hugged each of us in turn, smiling like it had been years since he'd last seen us. And he looked tired, too...

Then he caught sight of Bilbo, and the reunion was complete. We left Frodo with Bilbo and the Red Book and went off to find something to eat. Sam stayed behind to pack his things, since we'd be going back to the Shire soon.

"Back to the Shire," I said happily, in between bites of elvish food and sips of tea. It was so dainty and eloquent, the food, the dress, the people. Too eloquent. I kept getting looks from the elves who strolled by. A hobbit? Aye, that was a queer thing to see, little people, but a girl? So far from home? What possessed her to leave the sanctity of her household and husband, everything she knows to be…? I had second guessed my choices at the accusing stares. Perhaps I should have listened to that note, after all. To be home again! Back where I belonged! I took a long sip and swallowed. "Ah…that'll do wonders for me…"

"Aye, it shall," Merry said with a happy sigh and sank deep into a soft chair, smoking Pipe Weed. "I'd say we'll be back in Bag End by tomorrow evening latest," he continued. "I shall love to be back…smoking some, drinking some at the Green Dragon…" He whispered his fancy's name, "_Estella_," and I burst into giggles.

_25 October 3018, of the Third Age_

_4 Blotmath 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

The next morning Frodo was summoned to a secret council meeting that was sure to last hours, and Sam went with him as always, watching from afar, while Merry, Pippin and I made up games to pass the time. We were impatient for it to end so we could start off home. But eventually we, too, went to listen in on the Council meeting, considering that we would not be allowed in.

"Why sit around when we can break the rules?" Merry grinned, grabbing my wrist and jerking Pippin's arm. "Come on, then! There's nothing there that we aren't going to learn from Frodo!"

Around Elrond sat elves and dwarves and men and Gandalf and Frodo and Strider. Elrond named them all. There was Gimli the red-headed dwarf with his double-bladed axe, son of Gloin of the Lonely Mountain. Gloin was there, too. A fair elf with long blonde hair and blue eyes, dressed in green, and carrying a beautiful bow and quiver was named Legolas; The Prince of Mirkwood. He was taller than the men and I stared in wonder at the beauty in his face, and his smile...truly elves were the fairest race. I was humiliated suddenly, to be called a hobbit. Strider was named as Strider, and Gandalf as Gandalf, and Frodo as Frodo Baggins, The Ringbearer. The other man there was big and burly and garbed with blue, red, and silver. He was called Boromir, son of Denethor the Steward of Gondor in the White City of Minas Tirith.

The titles meant nothing to me; they just made my head spin. It was only Frodo we wanted to see, anyway. As we peered, Frodo arose from his seat and placed his ring on a pedestal, where everyone stared in awe.

"So it is true…" Boromir said.

"The Doom of Men," whispered hushed voices.

Boromir shook his head in disagreement as he held his hand up and stood ahead of the Council. "It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy; let us use it against him!"

"What is he talking about?" I whispered to Merry.

"The ring, I think," Merry replied with a shrug.

"Tis not a weapon!" I exclaimed, a little too loudly, and Pippin threw his hand in front of my mouth. "Just a ring…" The scraping and crashing of a chair jerked us all to attention again, frightened and excited at once.

Strider jumped to his feet, his eyes flashing. "You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" Boromir's arrogant reply made me want to smack him in the face.

Legolas jumped up next. "This is no mere ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance!"

All three of us gasped, and we quickly muffled the surprise as not to be discovered. We listened further, to discover who Aragorn son of Arathorn was and what it meant.

"Aragorn? This…is Isildur's heir?" Boromir asked with disgust.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor!" Legolas stated proudly.

At this point, there were too many questions to further understand what was happening in the Council, so Merry, Pippin and I began a discussion about Strider where I had to recite the verses several times, but not before we heard another statement from Boromir about Strider being royalty.

"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king," he said.

After another hour of boring, quiet conversations, the discussion became heated and the Council began to argue and yell at one another. Finally, we heard Frodo's little voice burst out above the rest.  
"I will take it!" He cried. "I will take the ring to Mordor."

Everyone stopped and turned to look at the little hobbit who was volunteering to do such a task, including Merry, Pippin, and me, openmouthed ourselves.

"Though," he added, looking fearfully around him. "I do not know the way."

Gandalf joined his side. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, so long as it is yours to bear."

Strider…or rather, now Aragorn, also walked to Frodo, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," elegantly Legolas added himself to the group.

"And my axe," said the dwarf Gimli, eyeing Legolas with distaste. Even a hobbit such as I knew dwarves and elves did not get along.

Boromir gave Strider a look as well, before telling Frodo, "You carry the fates of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done." So Boromir joined as well.

"Hey!" Cried a small voice, and Sam burst out of the shrubbery. "Mr. Frodo's not goin' anywhere without me!"

Elrond sounded amused as he bent over Sam. "No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Merry looked utterly determined as he nodded to Pippin and me. "Oy! Wait!" He called as we three ran from behind our hiding place to stand beside Frodo. "We're coming too!" Merry looked sternly at Elrond as he said, "You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!"

Pippin tried to defend our decision to join the travelers, as he looked at me, completely serious. "Anyways, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission…quest…thing."

"Well that rules you out, Pip," Merry sniggered. Pippin looked heartbroken.

"Nine companions," Elrond said.

"Ten," I whispered.

"So be it," he said with a look in my direction. "You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Did you hear that?" Merry asked in a loud whisper, and a stupid grin. "We're part of the Fellowship!"

"Great!" Pippin grinned. "Uh…where are we going?"

With a glance at Pippin, Merry scratched his head and the rest of us basked in the awkward silence of a genuine curiosity. We didn't know where Mordor was.

"Seriously," I said.


	7. Chapter 7

Why We Never Made it Over Caradhras and Had to go Underneath Instead

_Did they send me daughters_

_When I asked for sons?_

-Capt. Shang

_25 December 3018, of the Third Age_

_3 Afteryule 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

We could not depart Rivendell without provisions and the elves' blessing, traveling all day through wood and plains that were unknown to us. The scenery amazed not only me but the rest of the company as well, having never journeyed so far before. Of course, in three days of walking with our packs and tripping over rocks, we were overcome with weariness. Gandalf helped to ease the journey by letting us rest on a grassy hill in the wild.

For a few moments I listened to Gandalf explain our trek. "We must hold this course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there our road turns east to Mordor…"

The names were unfamiliar and I did not know anything except that it was going to be a long journey and we had to protect Frodo and his Ring. So I unsheathed my sword and joined Merry and Pippin in a fighting lesson taught by none other than Boromir.

"Two, One, Five. Good. Very good," he was telling Pippin as Merry watched.

"Move your feet," Aragorn warned.

Pippin parried and blocked Boromir's attacks.

"That's good, Pippin," Merry called.

Pippin's concentration lessened as he turned towards Merry. "Thanks," he replied happily.

"Alright, let me try," I said assertively, and took Pippin's place.

"Go back, little girl," Boromir snorted, tapping my shoulder with his blade. "Battles are no place for women. Go back to your fire and make yourself useful otherwise. Make me something to eat, or mend our clothes." He gave a little laugh, like it was a joke, like that was the reason I'd come on the expedition.

My confidence (and my sword arm) dropped with a blink. Glancing about me, Merry and Pippin looked murderous, and Frodo and Sam, watching from a little ledge, were frowning down at Boromir.

"I want to fight," I said, controlling my sudden desire to snick the sword across Boromir's thigh.

"We've got a long way to go," Boromir said in agitation after I clumsily swung my sword at him. "You need to be tranquil and sure, but…you fight as though you're too cautious, like you're afraid you'll hurt yourself or me. You're spirited and headstrong and determined, but you must harness that energy to your body, not just leave it in your head. Don't be afraid to throw a hard blow."

"I shan't," I said, rolling my eyes at the way Boromir had deeply analyzed my personality in one swing of a sword. And in one attack, I had let my reflexes block for me, swiftly counterattacking and attacking until Boromir himself tired and began having trouble blocking my attacks.

"Ok, Ok, you're not just good for cooking and sewing," Boromir replied, wiping his jaw. I could see he was slightly amazed at my newly-found warrior skills. "Let Pippin try again."

Pippin and I switched places and Boromir accidentally nicked his hand, and after some jumping around in pain, Pip kicked Boromir in the shin and he and Merry both ran at him.

"Aah!" Boromir laughed.

"Get him!" Merry cried while Pippin yelled.

"Hold him, Merry! This is for the Shire!"

I laughed, stowing my sword in its scabbard, and went to sit by Sam and Frodo, taking some bread to snack on.

"What is that?" Sam suddenly asked, pointing up at a fast-moving dark mass in the sky.

"Nothing," Gimli said. "Just a whiff of cloud."

Boromir, free of Merry and Pippin, sat up. "It's moving fast…against the wind," he said fearfully.

Legolas, from his perch, leapt down and ran for cover. "Crebain! From Dunland!" He shouted.

"But what's Crebain…?" I began but Legolas grasped my cloak and tossed me to the ground.

"Be still," he urged.

"HIDE!" Aragorn yelled, and we scrambled under rocks and brush. I thrust myself in a pocket of rock with Frodo and Sam, until the flock of crows had passed.

As we crawled out of hiding, Gandalf spat on the ground. "Spies of Sauruman!" He told us. "The passage south is being watched. We must take the pass of Caradhras." After saying it, he looked helplessly north to the Misty Mountains, where we would have to cross.

_11-12 January 3019, of the Third Age_

_21-22 Afteryule 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

We began the climb up the snowy slopes of Caradhras, and suddenly knew it was a mistake. We hobbits were unprepared for the snow and ice, and besides being dreadfully cold, the winds toppled us right over. Frodo at one point lost his footing and tumbled backwards, losing his ring, which Boromir picked up for him as Aragorn helped Frodo to his feet.

I was holding Aragorn's hand at the time and brushed snow off Frodo's cloak as he eyed Boromir holding his ring.

"It is a strange fate we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing... such a little thing." He gazed at the golden ring upon its chain.

"Give the ring to Frodo," Aragorn said angrily, glancing down at Frodo's frightened face, and mine.

"As you wish," Boromir replied coldly, handing it over without looking at it. "I care not." Only then, after Frodo had snatched it away, did he look upon his face, and he reached a burly hand and roughly tousled Frodo's hair, stared at me, and walked on.

It was then I noticed Aragorn had been holding his sword's hilt, and he relaxed, releasing it once Boromir had gone.

We finally reached the Pass of Caradhras, struggling through the heavy snows. I had stayed with Aragorn, clinging to his waist as we fought our way through. The wind whipped our faces and the ice was cruel on the eyes, and as the storm grew ever worse, Legolas, walking along and keeping watch, cried out to us.

"There is a fell voice on the air!"

I could not hear Gandalf's reply except for one word, "Saruman."

At that moment lightning struck the mountain and an avalanche of snow fell around us.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn bellowed, clutching me tighter to him, and wrapping his cloak a little tighter around me. "Gandalf! We must turn back!"

"No!" Gandalf cried back. I began to shiver and cough, licking my lips to bring back circulation. My hands and feet were numb, and my ears were beginning to sting from being exposed for so long. Snow piled itself upon my pale face, and my eyes fluttered. I began to go completely warm and sleepy until Boromir's voice startled me.

"We must get off the mountain! This will be the death of the little ones! The hobbits, Gandalf! Let us make for the Gap of Rohan and take the West roads to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard," Aragorn argued, shaking me slightly to wake me, and rubbing the cloak over my back and hands.

"Let the Ringbearer decide," was Gandalf's reply. "Frodo?"

We all turned to Frodo. He caught my eye and saw how I and the others suffered from the cold. I could tell he had been, as well; his voice was such that it sounded as if his lips were numb. "We will go through the mines," he said, and I was ever grateful.

I felt a great deal more alive when we reached the Walls of Moria, and sat with Merry and Pippin beside a great lake, not saying anything but resting our feet instead. Gimli exclaimed, excitedly, that the doors were hidden and often for so long that their own masters could not find them again. Legolas sniffed. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

I turned round to watch what was happening. Gandalf was standing at a place in front of the walls where two trees grew.

"It mirrors only starlight..." Gandalf murmured, turning to the skies where the moon shone over us. "And moonlight..." He backed up and white, milky lines glowed over the doors, spreading into an elaborate design of trees and runes. "It reads 'The Doors of Durin—Lord of Moria. Speak Friend, and Enter.'"

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry was speaking to us, but he turned around as to look upon the doors, and Gandalf answered him.

"Oh it's quite simple," he said kindly. "If you are a friend you speak the password and the doors will open."

That meant waiting around for our feet to come back to life and for someone to figure out the password. Merry and I sighed.

After a few failed tries, Pippin moaned. "Nothing's happening," he whined, tossing a rock into the lake.

"I once knew every spell in the tongues of men, elves, and orcs," Gandalf complained himself, pushing his hand against the door.

"What are you going to do, then?" Pippin asked.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took. And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words."

Pippin frowned, but Merry and I sniggered. We began throwing stones into the water again, but Aragorn stayed our hands.

"Don't disturb the water," he warned, as Gandalf thrust down his hat.

"Oh, it's useless!" He cried exasperatedly.

Frodo walked up to the door. "It's a riddle," he said slowly, cocking his head to one side. "Speak 'friend,' and enter. What's the elvish word for friend?"

"_Mellon_," Gandalf said, and the doors opened right then.

The Mines had Orcs, The Orcs had a Cave Troll, and the Caves had a Balrog

_Let's get down to business_

_To defeat the...orcs..._

--Capt. Shang

_13 January 3019, of the Third Age_

_22 Afteryule 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

As we began to venture into the mines, I became aware of skeletons of dwarves littered along the floor. I cried in disgust and horror, and grabbed Pippin's arm as Legolas pulled an arrow out of one of the bodies and examined it.

"Goblins," he announced, as Gimli cried aloud for the destruction of his people.

Then a tentacle shot out of the water and seized Frodo round the waist, surprising us all. "Frodo!" I cried, and ran after the thing with my sword. Sam was already swinging his sword and swiped a tentacle. I ran, slipping on the stones of the lakebed and swinging furiously. Of course, I was too clumsy and small to be a threat, and I kept missing. The thing tossed Frodo around a bit as Boromir and Aragorn rushed in with their swords and Legolas struck hits with his bow and arrows. Finally, the squid-like thing, in all the confusion, released a yelling Frodo and Aragorn caught him in his arms, ushering the rest of us to run. We escaped narrowly into the Mines of Moria, and the thing in the water sent an avalanche of rock blocking the way out.

Gandalf, in the lead, suddenly stopped and turned around. "We now have but one choice. We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world."

We continued on, traversing dark, wet halls and climbing stairs long since overgrown. Pippin slipped above me, and for a moment I saw our lives reflected in each other's eyes. Merry held onto him gently. "Pippin," he cried. It was a long while before we made it to a three-way hall.

"I have no memory of this place," Gandalf said as we stopped behind him.

It was not Gandalf's best day. He sat before each passage in thought, and we were allowed a rest again, thank goodness. Aragorn began a fire and Pippin, after lying down and trying to sleep, sat upright.

"Are we lost?" His little loud voice was enough to pierce a hole in rock, but I could tolerate.

"No," Merry replied, lying on his back, and rolling his eyes.

"I think we are."

"Shh!" Sam shut them up. "Gandalf's thinking."

I tried to sleep myself, but rock could only get so comfortable. After a few moments of silence, besides all the tossing and turning, Pippin spoke up again.

"Merry?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

I did manage a nap that evening, after the trek up Caradhras and the ordeal with the Thing in the water. Eventually I felt a hand shaking my shoulder. It was Merry. "Get up," he said kindly. "Gandalf's just remembered which way we need to go."

"Not remembered," Gandalf said with a smile, turning to Merry. "But the air doesn't smell so foul down here. If in doubt Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

Merry and I exchanged bemused glances as we walked slowly down the passage and Gandalf "risked a little more light." What we saw took our breath away—miles of stone columns and beautiful carvings into the mines that Gandalf named as the Dwarf city and realm of Dwarrowdelf.

"Now there's an eye-opener and no mistake," Sam gasped.

As we walked through the hall, looking about, Gimli gave a start and rushed towards a sunlit room where a white tomb and more corpses lay strewn. Gimli knelt by the tomb, reading the runes and began to sob, comforted by Boromir. I bowed my head in reverence, and Frodo looked longingly at the tomb.

"Here lies Balin," Gandalf began.

Frodo jerked on the spot, suddenly full of sorrow. "Bilbo knew him…"

"Son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," Gandalf translated quietly as we allowed Gimli his last respects. "He is dead, then. It's as I feared." He handed his hat and staff to Pippin, taking sight of a large and tattered book in the hands of one of the corpses. We watched as he carefully removed it from the dead dwarf's hand and opened to a dirty page with writing in a language of runes that no one could read, save perhaps Gimli.

"We must move on," Legolas hastened us. "We cannot linger." Gandalf ignored him. He began to read, slowly.

"They have taken the bridge, and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep." He turned the page and continued. "We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out...They are coming."

I felt the blood in my arms run cold as I shivered from the horror of being in a place where, long ago, dwarves had fearfully been trapped and waited for death.

A horrendous clatter shattered everyone's thoughts as I, along with the rest of the company, whirled to see Pippin, looking embarrassed and terrified as a skeleton slid into the well behind him, followed by a chain and bucket. Poor Pippin winced with each _BANG_ heard far below in the mines, and finally, as the noise ceased, we were able to relax.

Gandalf slammed the book, or diary, shut, throwing Pippin a ferocious glare. "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

Pippin cast his eyes down and sat alone while we prepared to leave. Suddenly, though, drums sounded from far away, echoing from below. Terror-stricken, I ran to the well and leaned to peer in, but could see nothing. Gandalf took me by the cloak and pulled me away from it with a warning glance.

"Frodo!" Sam cried suddenly, and we turned to him. Frodo pulled his sword out of its sheath to see it was glowing blue.

"Orcs!" Legolas spit out.

I pulled my own sword out, ready to fight, while Boromir approached the door. Immediately, arrows were shot at him, and we all jumped back. Aragorn gathered us hobbits together.

"Get back! Stay close to Gandalf!" He pleaded, and ran to block the door.

"They have a cave troll," Boromir said bluntly, and gathering axes, used them as bars for the door.

As the rest of the Fellowship drew their weapons, Gimli tossed his axe from hand to hand and leapt atop Balin's white tomb. "Aaargghh!" He cried. "Let them come! There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

While we stood back, Legolas and Aragorn shot arrows through holes in the door and, from the cries of pain that followed; we knew they'd met their marks.

"Well met!" I had to shout, and sure enough, the doors were broken down by the mass of orcs. It didn't take long to get the hang of fighting. Boromir's training had done me well; Pippin and I fought back-to-back and stayed close to Gandalf, as we promised. As we continued the battle, a monstrous cave troll smashed its way in, swinging at us with chains. I was nearly chopped to bits by one, and only ducked out of the way in time, pulling Pippin down and slaying several orcs in the process.

"What a way to spend my day," Pippin incited.

Something about being in battle changed me that day. I don't know whether it was pride or just the glory of the fight, but being able to defend myself made me stand firmly rather than cower behind Aragorn or Gandalf as us hobbits were prone to do. The same difference was seen in Pippin and Merry and Sam, who understood at last that this was no matter of lighthearted play; we'd left the Shire for possibly forever and were now in a life-or-death adventure that for now had no end.

"Let's go!" I cried, shattering my own thoughts by catching sight of Frodo on the ledge of the room, trying to avoid the troll. Pippin and I seized Merry's arm and he followed us, attempting to stab it, but ended up cornered. And, being of miniscule size, it did little good; the troll tossed us away from Frodo as easily as the Ringwraiths had done.

I shook my head clear and saw Frodo duck behind a pillar, turning one way and then the other, until the troll picked him up and held him above the ground.

"ARAGORN!" He cried frantically. "_ARAGORN!_" Using his head, he stabbed the troll's hand and escaped. I busied myself with the rest of the orcs in the room, casually glancing back in time to see Aragorn stab the troll with a spear. By now, my sword was soaked with black blood and I was sure we'd won the fight, until someone screamed, "FRODO!" And Merry and Pippin and I froze, seeing him slumped over with the spear in his chest.

"YAAAAAAAAAH!" I cried, and Merry and Pippin followed suit. We leapt atop the troll, stabbing at it with our little swords in a blind fury. Our efforts did hardly more than to agitate it, as he picked Merry up by his leg and dropped him to the ground, and seized me, though I cried for help, and found myself falling through the air to the hard stone ground. Pippin stayed aboard, avoiding capture, and kept stabbing its head. I crawled to my sword, which I'd dropped when the troll dropped me, and slowly got to my feet, running to Frodo's side and attempting to revive him, with assistance from Sam.

The troll, in pain, had opened its mouth and Legolas delivered an arrow shot that killed it. The rest of the orcs, seeing the massacre, fled immediately, and as the troll swayed from side to said and fell, Pippin let out a cry, for he was thrown roughly to ground.

Tears welled in my eyes; I stepped away as Sam cried "Frodo!" Aragorn, free from his head wound, joined Frodo's side and lifted his limp body gently.

To all of our surprise, he coughed and sputtered and gasped, "I'm all right! I'm not hurt!"

"You should be dead," Aragorn said softly. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

"I think," Gandalf said with a little smile, "That there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye."

Frodo, looking from me down at his chest, began unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a shimmering mail of some metal.  
"Mithril," Gimli gasped, before finally taking his eyes off the shirt and grinning at Frodo from behind his thick beard. "You're full of surprises, Master Baggins," he added, and a sudden clatter of orcs sent us on our way again.

As we got to our feet and ran, Gandalf threw instructions at us. "To the Bridge of Khazad-Dûm!"

Terrified, we followed, but could not ignore the tens of thousands of orcs climbing down columns and running after us. Soon we were surrounded and attempting to stay calm, until a fiery light from far down in the hall chased everything away. We did not move, but sidestepped and pranced a bit, as a leering shape of fire and smoke began forming from far off.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir inquired.

Gandalf bowed his head, holding his staff steady, his eyes closed while a slow _thud-thud-thud_ told me the fiery thing was on its way. "A Balrog," Gandalf replied, clutching his staff in a way that made the rest of us shiver with worry. "A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you..." He raised his head and yelled, startling us all to sprint. "RUN!"

We dashed down a passageway and flight of stairs that suddenly curved off into the abyss. Boromir nearly made the same mistake we did over five months before, in Maggot's farm, when he slipped at the edge. That careless act made my heart heavy with longing to see the Shire again, not quite noticing when we picked up our running again.

"Swords are no use here!" Gandalf cried. My heart skipped a few beats, I think.

"This is the end," Sam groaned behind me.

"Not yet," I said, offering him my hand, where we had to stop abruptly to avoid running straight into a second pit, where the stairs had been broken in two pieces. Legolas, being an elf, leaped easily over the gorge and Gandalf followed easily as well. The rest of us looked up at Aragorn and Boromir, for Gimli could not take us. Boromir took Merry in one arm and Pippin in the other and thrust himself over with a cry, and Aragorn half pushed-half threw Sam over to Boromir, who caught him like a sack of potatoes. Aragorn jerked the back of my hood, for I was ready to jump, but Gimli had held up his hand first.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf," he said gruffly, and with a shout, jumped as far as he could, landing on the very edge of the chasm and nearly falling backwards in. Legolas took it to himself to grasp Gimli's beard and help him back up.

Aragorn pulled me back again suddenly, for the edge of our steps began to crumble and fall away. Alarmed, I turned around. The fiery thing called a Balrog was coming, and as it did, several heavy pieces of stone fell from the ceiling and walls of the mines. Behind us, a particularly huge and heavy stone fell and destroyed the other side of the stairs, so that we were on some island in the middle of a huge pit. To my terror, the whole piece began to sway, and Aragorn tightened his grip on my cloak, pulling me next to him and holding my waist firmly. On his other side was Frodo.

"Stay there," he said. "Hold there, Mandy. Hang on! Lean forward!" It rocked back, then forward again, coming close to the others, and we ran across before the entire section fell into the pits. The Fellowship continued its terrible run, across the bridge, where Gandalf instructed Aragorn to lead.

"Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf shouted, turning to face the Balrog. It wasn't until we were across that we turned to see what was happening. "You cannot pass!" He screamed at the Balrog, holding his staff and sword in front of him. A giant bull, as it looked like, with smoky wings and a fiery whip approached, releasing smoke and sparks from its nostrils. The thing itself seemed to be made entirely of fire.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried behind me.

We jumped back as Gandalf's staff illuminated, stopping the Balrog in its tracks, but I could tell it still wanted to go across and kill us all.

"I am the servant of the Secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udun!" Gandalf parried a strike with his sword and the Balrog's sword shattered. "Go back to the shadow," he added, as the Balrog advanced menacingly, lashing his whip.

"YOU…SHALL NOT…PASS!" Gandalf screamed one more time, striking the bridge with his staff, where it collapsed under the Balrog. As he watched, and we with him, the Balrog delivered its one last whip strike, while Gandalf was turning to join us. The cries that echoed told me that everyone knew what was happening, though Gandalf could not see. The whip curled around his foot and pulled him to the edge of the broken bridge. Frodo lunged after him but Boromir grasped him round the chest and held him back.

"_GANDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALF_!" was Frodo's pitiful scream.

Horror-stricken, I held Merry's cloak and he wrapped his arms around me, watching Gandalf hang there.

"Fly, you fools!" He said, and released his grip into the dark abyss.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Frodo cried, hollering as Boromir picked him up. He struggled and cried. "_NOOOOOOOOOOOOO_!"

"_Aragorn!…"_ I heard Boromir's voice in slow echo, like some kind of faraway dream, while Aragorn stared in a daze at the place Gandalf fell.

The orcs shot at us as we ran. Merry took my hand silently, avoiding eye contact, for he was in tears, and Pippin took my other, running furiously until we were out in the daylight once more.

Outside, I couldn't take it anymore, and fell to my knees, holding my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably, unaware of the rest of the Fellowship's actions. Merry fell beside me and consoled me as well as Pippin, who lay across our laps, wailing Gandalf's name while we held him. Sam was a little ways off, weeping, and we knew at that moment we could go nowhere, for Gandalf had been lost.


	8. Chapter 8

The Glowing Wood which we Resided and Got Presents, but no Gandalf

_Dark times lie ahead of us…when we must choose between what is right, and what is easy._

--Albus Dumbledore

_17 January 3019, of the Third Age_

_26 Afteryule 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

"Legolas, get them up," Aragorn said, without a glance in our direction.

"Give them a moment," Boromir cried. "For pity's sake!"

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs!" Aragorn shot back. "We must reach the Woods of Lothlórien. Come Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up." He reached down and pulled Sam up. "On your feet, Sam."

Sam wiped his eyes and offered his hand. "It ain't over yet," he said softly.

"Frodo?" Aragorn called. "Frodo!" I turned, wiping tears, to see him walking off all alone. Hearing Aragorn's voice, he turned back, weeping silently, tears dripping down his face, and we walked on.

We entered the woods called Lothlórien in utter silence, except Gimli, who ushered us forward, for our steps were getting slower by the moment.

After Gandalf's death, no one wanted to continue on anywhere.

"Stay close young hobbits!" He pleaded after a gentle prod to keep strong. "They say a great sorceress lives in these woods, an elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell…"

Frodo immediately jumped and looked around.

"…and are never seen again."

Frodo's shocked expression did not go away. Sam sensed his fear.

"Mister Frodo?" He asked, placing a kind hand on his shoulder.

Gimli continued talking, to ease our spirits. "Well, here is one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

Lórien elves surrounded us on all sides, arrows notched and aimed straight at us. Everyone froze with surprised expressions on their faces, including Frodo and me. I clutched the hilt of my sword instinctively.

"Oh…" Gimli said.

I could have laughed in some other world, another not-quite-so solemn world, as a blond elf stepped out from the rest and stared Gimli in the eye. "The dwarf breathes so loud I could have shot him in the dark," he said arrogantly. From Gimli's returning growl I feared that the elves and dwarf would not last the night in peace.

Aragorn stepped forward and began speaking in elvish with him. "Haldir o Lórien."

"Aragorn! These woods are perilous! We should go back!" Gimli said fearfully. I agreed. My eyes were still puffy and red and I was not willing to fight any more battles.

"You have entered the Realm of the Lady of the Wood," Haldir said suddenly. "You cannot go back. Come, she is waiting." He gestured for us to follow.

We arrived at Caras Galadhon, the Lórien city if you will, high in the trees reached by glowing white, winding staircases, which we ascended to greet Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlórien, who arrived to meet us, hand in hand. Celeborn looked us over, and I felt uneasy as he spoke.

"Nine that are here yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him."

We were still and silent. Galadriel's eyes averted to meet Aragorn's, and in a moment she spoke, as though she had read the answer there.

"He has fallen into shadow." Then, she spoke to us all. "The quest stands on the edge of a knife. Stray but a little, and it will fail, to the ruin of all."

If she meant it as a warning, as I had assumed, it was the idea she presented which made my blood cold and I shivered slightly. She turned to look upon Boromir, who trembled and finally looked away. "Yet," she added, "Hope remains while the company is true." As she continued to gaze upon us each in turn, she spoke once more. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace."

We turned to go find somewhere to sleep, when Galadriel's gaze caught my own, and I heard her gentle voice in my head, comforting my sorrows and easing the toils that had once been.

_A wanderer, lost in the woods of peril, once a fine young lady of the Shire and tilted, upon your father's death, into the fates of the company are you now; traversing the lands, unsure of why except for the undying loyalty to the Ringbearer and his kin. Gandalf has proved more than friend to you, and now he has gone as swiftly as your mother and father before he. Do not shake with fear when you so badly wish to stand bravely. Your loyalty and love to your company has proved far greater than you feel in your heart. It is this bond which will defeat the evil in the end. Go now, sleep, and dream a little dream. Do not be afraid of silence, nor of fear at all, but dream... _

I felt greatly reassured, not afraid, once she had spoken to me, and I followed the others in much higher spirits.

Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo, and I set up a tent under the trees while Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli set up a few of their own. As we hobbits settled down to sleep, we heard the Lórien elves singing.

"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas told us softly. "Listen…"

"What do they say about him?" Merry asked, resting close to me.

"I have not the heart to tell you. For me the grief is still too near," Legolas replied kindly, and patted Merry's head. "Go to sleep, now, listen to the voices of the stars."

It was sorrowful and beautiful, but I could not cry any more than I already had. Suddenly I felt very tired, and drifted off to sleep with Merry's soft snores and Pippin's soft humming as my lullaby.

_16 February 3019, of the Third Age_

_26 Solmath 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

After staying, for little more than a month, we prepared to leave the fair wood of Lothlórien. It was another sorrowful time, for it was another place which was kind and where we were not driven by fear or forced to fight off unfriendly foes. We stood in a line before Celeborn, who one by one garbed us in lovely elven cloaks, fastened with a green leaf brooch.

"May these cloaks shield you from unfriendly eyes," Celeborn said after all of us were cloaked.

Next, he handed Legolas packets of leaves, and under our confused stare, Legolas smiled. "Lembas, the elvish waybread. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man."

"I already ate four," Pippin whispered with a snigger, and I pushed him playfully.

Next, Galadriel stood in front of us and presented us with gifts, beginning with Legolas, who received a bow of the Galadhrim. She gave Merry, Pippin, and I small silver daggers, and also her parting words.

"These are the daggers of the Noldorin. They have already seen service in war. Do not fear, young Adamanta and Peregrin. You will find your courage."

Sam received elven rope (he was greatly disappointed) and Gimli received three glittering, golden hairs from the head of Galadriel, who was surprised to see such kindness from a dwarf to an elf.

"Never again shall a dwarf be refused into our wood. Our time runs short, but you have shown more generosity than you know." Galadriel bowed her head to Gimli, who fell to his knees. She was taken aback by his graciousness toward her. Such another small thing that made the Company ease.

Aragorn received nothing, though he did speak in elvish with Galadriel some more. Frodo's gift was last.

"Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Earendil, our most beloved star. _Namarie."_ Galadriel bent down then and kissed Frodo's head. "May it be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

We boarded the final gift from the elves; boats and paddles for a journey down the great Anduin River. There were three; Merry, Pippin, Boromir and I had one to ourselves, Frodo, Sam, and Aragorn another, and Legolas and Gimli another. The trek on the long river took us nearly ten days, during which we passed through a canyon in which giant figures had been carved from the cliffs at least 300 feet high. Their arms were raised in a gesture of warning which, I feared, was all too true. Majestically the statues, called the Argonanth, eyed us and allowed us passage through the canyon, and soon, to my comforts, we landed ashore.

One Last Unexpected Happening Before The Fellowship Dissolved

_It is our choices, that show who we really are, far more than our abilities._

--Albus Dumbledore

_26 February 3019, of the Third Age_

_6 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Aragorn wanted to approach Mordor from the north, but Gimli argued as though in jest while we set up camp. I threw a blanket on the ground while Pippin rolled his and dropped his pack beside mine. That done, we sat together near Gimli and got out some Lembas while we could rest.

"Oh, yes?! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil; an impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better!" Pippin and I looked up, immediately interested, as Aragorn scowled at Gimli. "Festering, stinking marshlands far as the eye can see!"

"Wonderful!" I smiled for the first time in a long time. "It sounds like our journey will continue to those marvelous sights which you have gladly described for us."

Aragorn was uneasy but he replied, though without the return of a smile. "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength master dwarf."

"Angst!" I said with a small giggle.

"Recover my…?" Gimli was outraged and glared. "No dwarf need recover strength!" Then he saw Pippin and I were still at his feet resting, and he laughed. "Pay no heed to that, young hobbits!" We smiled gratefully.

Merry arrived just then, carrying firewood. "Your turn," he told us, then looked around in question. "Wait…where's Frodo?"

My heart overturned and realized I'd not seen him for a while. If we lost him…if something caught him…

"Oh no!" Pippin cried, and Aragorn finally gave us eye contact.

"He's gone!" Merry told him fearfully, but Aragorn calmed him.

"Stay here. He will be found. Go gather the firewood, and mind you keep an eye out for him. Legolas and I shall be swift." He disappeared into the wood. Soon after, there was a crash of brush, as Gimli dove after them, and Pippin, Merry, and I were left alone.

At first, as Pippin pointed, movement seemed like Frodo, and we rose to call him forth. It was Merry who realized we were wrong, and gripped Pippin's shoulder. "Run!" He hissed, and we backed away into a bush as a troupe of huge, black figures rushed through the wood.

"Find the Halfling!" Shouted the leader of the oversized ugly things. These were no orcs; they were Uruk-kai.

"Frodo!" Merry whispered. At last he had found him. Frodo was not far away, hiding behind a tree.

"Hide here!" Pippin begged. "Come on!"

Frodo resisted, shaking his head.

"What's he doing?" Pippin cried.

"He's leaving," I realized.

"NO!" Pippin leapt from his hiding place in a fury, and Merry ran after his little cousin, pulling me with him.

"Pippin!" He cried frantically, attempting to hold him back. Pippin seemed beyond help, he was shoving Merry away, trying to stop Frodo.

"I have an idea," I whispered, grabbing Merry's arm gently and making a quick decision. "Run!" I told Frodo. "GO!" I looked back at him one more time, trying to forget those childish memories of the Shire. He was nodding at us and suddenly got to his feet and fled. It was only then that I knew I had done the right thing by choosing to stay. Quickly to Merry, I whispered my plan. "They want the Halfling," I said with a smirk. "Except there are five of us, and only one has the Ring—the one currently escaping. If we can make this work, they won't even know he exists."

"We'll be tortured, and killed, if we're caught," Merry hissed. His eyes were full of fear.

Then I stood tall, looking straight at the Uruk-kai and taking a deep breath before running in the opposite direction to distract them. "HEY YOU!" I called. "OVER HERE!"

It worked.

Merry and Pippin followed my lead and ran away from Frodo, leading the Uruk-kai away as well.

"It's working!" Pippin cheered.

"We _know_ it's working, just come on!" Merry called back.

It could have been the bravest thing we'd ever done, or perhaps the most stupid, (sacrificing?) ourselves to save Frodo. We were no match for Uruk-kai, and the rest of the company needed not to save our skins. There were more troubling matters afoot for them.

As we ran, an Uruk-kai leapt in front of us, raising his blade. I scrambled backwards, shouting for Merry and Pippin to follow me, but they stayed rooted to their spot by fear. I shut my eyes, assuming the worst, as Pippin screamed and the blade fell, but soon I heard more shouts. Opening my eyes, I saw that Boromir had saved us by killing the Uruk-kai with his own axe, as his duty was to protect us. More fell beasts closed in around us, however, more than any of us could handle, and Boromir, in fright, blew three short blasts on his ox-horn.

"Run!" He told us fiercely. "Save yourselves!"

But we couldn't move. We stared in shock as Boromir tried helplessly to defend us, and, as though in slow motion, the Uruk-kai's leader, Lurtz, shot an arrow into him. Frozen still, we watched, as Boromir jumped up to attack again. Another arrow struck him and he fell to his knees, staring into our own horror-stricken eyes, as he mustered his strength to stand and swing his sword once more, before a third arrow struck him.

I could not contain myself and grasped my sword, with all the courage I had in me I ran out to the Uruk-kai, shouting something that sounded a lot like "FRODO!"

"FOR THE SHIRE!" I heard Merry and Pippin follow behind me, taking up their swords. We never got the chance to strike, however, for the Uruk-kai only had to wrap one thick limb around our waists and throats and lift us up and away. I struggled a fright, beating my fists to bruises against the heavy armor and never taking my eyes off Boromir. He cried out once more; his parting words to us filled my heart with sorrow.

"I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness or the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend!" He shouted in his final breaths. "I have failed you, little ones, I have failed you!" He laid back and I wept.

In one blow from an Uruk's shield I was completely unconscious and a song crept its way into my head. Though I saw nothing but darkness, I dreamed evilly of the things which we had endured thus far, and little hope remained now that we were captured. No one knew of our whereabouts and I was sure no one would bother to come after us. In my head I heard a voice singing, and though I thought at first it to be Frodo, I realized at last it was not.

"_When the cold of winter comes, starless night will cover day. _

_In the veiling of the sun, we will walk in bitter rain_

_But in dreams, I can hear your name and in dreams, we will meet again. _

_When the seas and mountains fall, and we come to end of days _

_In the dark I hear a call, calling me there _

_I will go there…and back again_."

When I came to, I opened my eyes, and could hear the last note of the song finishing. Everything was spinning out of control until I cleared my head and blinked. A pair of familiar round eyes blinked back at me.

It was Pippin.


	9. Chapter 9

They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard! They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard!

_29 February 3019, of the Third Age_

_9 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

_Strider shook his head. "Hobbits," I fancied he muttered under his breath. "Barad-Dûr. Very Well. It is the house of the Dark Lord, his tower in Mordor, where he would have you tortured far further than you could imagine...you would give up those you love, and admit to anything they ask of you, even if it was not true...and you would eventually beg to be killed so that you would not have to suffer anymore..." he shrugged once. "But do not think of such things as you dream. You are safe here, and soon you will be safer still. Good-night, little hobbit." _

Words shook around in my head.

My hands were tightly bound and the Uruks were running west with me, Merry, and Pippin over their backs. They did not stop for anything, which was unfortunate since I was feeling cold and sick and my head was pounding. I would have gladly been knocked out again, but Pippin was worried about me and Merry as it was. Merry had not yet come to.

"Merry," I called softly.

Pippin did the same and then fell silent.

The Uruk-kai stopped after a few minutes when a few orcs emerged from the plains. One named Grishnákh spoke first. "You're late. Our master grows impatient. He wants the Shire-rats now."

The Uruk-kai leader, Uglúk replied nastily, his teeth bared. "I don't take orders from orc-maggots. Saruman will have his prize. We will deliver them."

Grishnákh clicked his teeth and growled in his throat.

The Uruks lifted us over their heads and dropped us painfully to the ground; Pippin, me, and then Merry. Merry stirred, but his eyes did not open, and his face seemed to grow a little paler. A bloody gash was set over his left eye, a wound from goodness-knows-not.

"Merry? Merry! Wake up Merry!" Pippin pleaded, and then tugged on an Uruk's cloak. "My friend is sick! He needs water! Please!" He cried in his brave little voice. The surrounding Uruks laughed.

"Sick is he? Give him his medicine, boys!" They chortled, such a sickening and hateful noise that Pippin and I both looked at each other with worried grimaces.

One Uruk presented a dark bottle of sticky black liquid and roughly grasped Merry's jaw before forcing it down his throat. Beside me, Pippin flinched as Merry choked and gagged and spit it up.

"STOP IT!" I howled, clawing with my tied hands at the nearest Uruk's arm. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

"Can't take his medicine, doesn't know what's good for him!" They jeered, swiping a sticky substance on the wound over his eye, which sizzled and made him cry out.

"You next, Shire-rats," and before I could protest, had my mouth roughly jerked open and was swallowing the thick, bitter substance. Though I gagged and nearly screamed from the pain of it all, I felt a sudden warmth rise from my throat to the rest of my body. Their medicine, terrible though it was, did give quite a bit of strength and I felt ready to go on.

Pippin struggled the most, and received a kick for his courage. Galadriel's parting words found themselves in my head, and I realized that she had used her wisdom to speak the truth for what she knew our future would hold, even if we did not.

The Uruks, bored with their new sport, finally left us alone, and Merry's eyes fluttered, now that he had taken some of the draught.

"Merry," I said, in great relief, and though my wrists were tied, was able to get some of his hair out of his face. Seeing his bruised and bloody face, Pippin made a small noise of anger beside me. Merry turned slowly to him.

"Hullo, Pip."

"You're hurt…" Pippin's face was full of fear and worry for his best friend and big cousin.

"I'm fine. It was just an act," Merry smiled, though I could tell it was painful for him. It was heart-wrenching to watch the strength Merry was showing, and the lies he was spinning, all for Pippin to be reassured. The love between the boys was too much and all else faded away.

"An act?" Pippin looked relieved.

"See? I fooled you too," Merry chuckled weakly. "Don't worry about me, Pippin."

A loud sniff caught us off guard. Uglúk was smelling the air, and once he had caught the scent of whatever he was searching for, let out a loud growl.

"What is it? What do you smell?" Another Uruk asked.

"Man-flesh!" Ugluk roared.

"Aragorn," I whispered to Pippin happily. "He's come after us!"

Several Uruks roared. "They've picked up our trail! Let's move!"

Instead of lifting us on their backs, we were pulled to our feet by out hair and forced to run with them. With a bit of quick thinking, Pippin veered off to the east, away from the pack, and rolled down a small hill, where he quickly unfastened his Lórien brooch and threw it into the grass. His escape didn't go over well, since the Uruks caught up quickly and had just as quickly set Pippin back in his place. For a moment we three were relieved that Pippin had suffered no violence, until one Uruk behind him raised a thick whip and struck the back of his legs. Pippin shrieked and stumbled, but the Uruks pushed him on.

"Be strong, Pippin," I murmured and gritted my teeth as I was struck with the whip too, and Merry last. The thing burned my back and it felt like my entire body was vibrating with the sting.

"Brace yourself, Mandy," Merry gasped.

"This will not be forgotten," the Uruk growled, snapping the whip across all of our backs to silence us. "Leg it!"

From a Cannibal Breakfast to a Bloody Massacre…Not to Mention the Talking Trees

Later that evening, after we were found to be too tired and too slow to run, and after many whips struck our legs and backs and still could not get us to move along, we were lifted and carried until twilight when the Uruks pulled us off them with one arm and dropped us roughly on the ground.

The Uruks refused to go a step further, exhausted, as were we, and their leader Uglúk, though reluctant at first, allowed his pack to stop for the night. He demanded a fire to be started, and the Uruks, distracted by their new tasks, took their attention from us hobbits. I was lying beside Merry, who appeared to be dozing, until he began to speak. "I think we might have made a mistake…leaving the Shire, Mandy." He felt about for my hand and grasped it. His was cold.

"Merry!" Pippin joined us, crawling painfully on his stomach. "Mandy!" His face was grave. "I'm sorry I…I thought that it was best to…"

He was telling about dropping his brooch. "You did well, Pip," I whispered. I could hear my own voice was weak. "They'll find us now, for sure." I shifted my position and with my teeth tugged at the ropes sawing into my wrists. The skin there was already chafed raw from being carried and strained. I rested my hands and shut my eyes, feeling ready to go mad from the discomfort and pain. Pippin's soft scarf, now slightly worn and dirty, brushed my hand and I grasped it in my fist. A single tear from the memory of my birthday dripped down my cheek and I opened my eyes.

The loud noise of axe hitting wood startled me out of my rest, an eerie groaning noise rose above it.

"What's making that noise?" Pippin asked fearfully.

"It's the trees…" Merry whispered, and sat up.

Pippin lifted his head up. "What? What do you mean?"

Merry stared into the distance, and then jerked back to Pippin. "You remember the Old Forest, on the borders of Buckland? Folk used to say there was something in the water that made the trees grow tall... and come alive," Merry replied.

"Alive?" I asked quietly.

Merry nodded. "Trees that could whisper, talk to each other. Even move!"

Nearby, an Uruk roared, and stomped his foot which rattled our little camp. "I'm starving'! We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking' days!"

"Yeah!" Another agreed. "Why can't we have some meat? What about them?" His head turned to where Merry, Pippin, and I lay, and we stared back. "They're fresh!"

I opened my mouth in horror, but said nothing. Merry moved closer to Pippin. Though he was pale, he stood tall and looked defiant.

"They are NOT for eating!" Uglúk growled. He jerked us up by the front of our cloaks and held us uncomfortably tight.

Grishnákh joined in. "What about their legs? They don't need those… Oh, they look tasty!" He clicked his tongue and licked his lips. I looked around in alarm as Merry squeezed my arm. His hand was trembling.

"Get back, scum!" Uglúk roared. "The prisoners go to Saruman _alive _and _unspoiled_."

"Alive? Why alive?" Grishnákh asked. "Do they give good sport?"

"They have something," Uglúk replied. "An Elvish weapon. The master wants it for war."

Pippin leaned into my ear and Merry's. "They think we have the ring!" His voice shook and cracked.

"Shh!" I said hurriedly, though Pippin looked confused. "As soon as they find out we don't," I explained. "We're good as dead."

Pippin paled, but Merry nodded approvingly.

"Just a mouthful, off the flank!" Another Uruk added. They did not give up the idea that we were for food and not questioning. He lunged toward us and Uglúk cut his head in one stroke.

"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" He roared, and everyone leapt in together to eat the dead Uruk.

We stared, aghast, until we realized that they were not paying us any mind, and we had no guards. Merry jerked his head and we followed, crawling eagerly toward Fangorn. Suddenly Pippin cried out; Merry and I turned to see Grishnákh standing on him. Pippin gasped and Grishnákh took him by the face, staring him in the eye.

"Go on," he mocked. "Call for help…Squeal…No one's gonna save you now!" He raised his sword to Pippin's throat.

"Pippin!" I cried, as Grishnákh was skewered by a lance and horses burst into the clearing. We crawled as fast as possible but the horses pranced and reared, and we were nearly flattened by their wild hooves. Pippin was tossed by a trotting horse onto his back and held his tied hands over his face as another reared over him and he screamed before rolling over and crawling quickly away. I caught sight of a blade and we cut the ropes from our chafed wrists quickly and scrambled to our feet, dodging galloping horses and flying spears.

Following us was Grishnákh, still alive. I, behind the others (for I was running in my skirts and quite weak), felt an iron hand grip my dagger's belt. I released the belt from my waist, but Grishnákh had taken hold of my left arm. I struggled and urged Merry and Pippin to go, which they did, but stopped short of entering Fangorn. Grishnákh, dragging me, rushed towards the boys.

My mind raced, an idea suddenly burst into my head, and I acted upon it impulsively. I reached the hand that Grishnákh held to the other side of my waist. I seized my sword and unsheathed it in one motion before flinging my arm upwards and slicing it across Grishnákh's face. He howled and released me, and I fell to the ground. Before I could get away he had taken my dagger from the belt I unbuckled and swiftly stabbed cruelly into the air.

The blade cut across my arm as I scrambled to my feet to go. I felt the deep wound wet with blood and cried out, holding my arm as I ran. Merry took my other arm and aided me into Fangorn and as we ran deep into the forest.

Feeling safe at last, I collapsed against a tree. Pippin fed me a bite of Lembas straight away while Merry ripped some length from his old cloak, still safe in his pack, and tying it around my arm.

"Did we lose him?" Pippin asked, looking around. "I think we lost him."

"I hope," I said, gasping for breath and painfully holding my arm. Blood seeped through my fingers and I made a small noise of helplessness. "He'll skewer me."

"You're very brave," Pippin said proudly. "To escape like that…"

"Brave but very stupid," I reminded him, while Merry silently tied the fabric around my arm.

The next thing we heard was the crashing of brush and Grishnákh's pained howls. "I'm gonna rip out your filthy little innards!" He roared. "Come here!"

We ran around several trees before Merry looked up and blinked. "Trees. Climb a tree. Pippin, help Mandy up."

Pippin scrambled up and I followed. It wasn't hard, since hobbits have a knack for climbing trees, but bending my arm was painful. Wet, warm blood soaked my bandage and Merry climbed up behind me and stopped halfway up, looking around.

"He's gone!" He sighed with relief, and Grishnákh, standing below, gave a vicious tug on his leg. He shook him off and kicked him in the face.

"Merry!" Pippin and I cried, as Merry lost his strength and fell. Suddenly the tree opened its eyes and looked directly at Pippin, who cried out in horror. I clung to the tree as Pippin let go and lunged backwards. I reached an arm to catch him but the tree caught him first, stepping on Grishnákh and killing him at last, and picking up Merry all at the same time.

"Little orcs, bar hoom," said the tree.

"It's talking Merry," Pippin stuttered, not taking his eyes off the tree. "The tree is talking!"

"Tree?" He talked quite slowly. "I am no tree. I am an Ent."

"A tree herder!" Merry said with a smile. "A shepherd of the forest!"

"Don't talk to it, Merry," Pippin said warily. "Don't encourage it!"

"Treebeard, some call me," said the Ent.

"And…whose side are you on?" I asked with a small gasp of pain from my arm.

"Side?" Treebeard appeared insulted I had asked such a question. "I am on nobody's side…because nobody is on my side, little orc. Nobody cares for the woods anymore."

"We're not orcs," Merry justified. "We're _hobbits_."

"Hobbits? Hmm…never heard of a hobbit before…sounds like orc mischief to me." In his anger, Treebeard began to squeeze and I struggled, sure that Merry and Pippin were too. "They come with fire, they come with axes. Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning! Destroyers and usurpers, curse them!"

"You don't understand!" Merry cried, gritting his teeth with the efforts of freeing himself. "We're _hobbits_!" He yelled, trying to get Treebeard to listen. "Halflings! Shire-folk!"

"Hoom. Maybe you are…and maybe…you are not. The White Wizard will know."

"White Wizard?" I gasped.

"Saruman," whispered Pippin.


	10. Chapter 10

It's hard to Believe, but Boredom was Worse than Being Handled by the Uruk-kai

It turns out that the White Wizard was not Saruman.

It was Gandalf.

"Gandalf!" Pippin cried, and began to weep again, after the ordeal in Moria. Merry and I joined him with happy tears. We simply could not believe Gandalf was alive; how could he leave us? And how did he survive?

"Fool of a Took," Gandalf chuckled, shaking his head, and began to speak in Entish with Treebeard. He was there for scarcely a few moments before he looked long at us and with a turn of his dazzling white cloak, was gone.

Treebeard walked on, with us resting in his branches as he hummed or told stories of old places no one had heard of and such.

"_Oh rowan mine, I saw you shine upon a summer's day _

_Upon your head how golden-red the crown you bore aloft_," He sang.

Merry yawned and triggered yawns out of Pippin and I as well.  
"Such a beautiful verse, hoom," Treebeard sighed.

"Is it much farther?" Merry asked in agitation. We'd been riding for three hours and I was not only tired, but stiff from being in the same position for too long. The branches stung everywhere and my arm was ringing from being ignored.

"Hoom!" Treebeard said. "Don't be hasty. It may be far to you, perhaps. My home lies deep in the forest near the roots of the mountain. I told Gandalf I would keep you safe and, safe is where I'll keep you."

"Oh, so that's what they were saying," I said, stifling a yawn and resting my head on a particularly sturdy branch, with my arm curled around it.

"I believe you will enjoy this next one," Treebeard continued. "It is one of my own compositions. Right, ahoom…

"_Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves and dreams of trees untold_

_When woodland halls are green and cool, and the wind is in the west_

_Come back to me. Come back to me, and say my land is best_."

By the time he had finished, I had dozed off as well as the boys. I was only startled out of my sleep as Treebeard gently placed us beside a towering tree with a soft blanket of leaves beneath. I could see the stars and hear Treebeard's voice lull me.

"Oh, oh… Sleep little Shirelings… Heed no nightly noise… Sleep 'til morning light. I have business in the forest… There are many to call… Many that must come. The shadow lies on Fangorn… The withering of all woods is drawing near… Do not fear; sleep in peace, little ones… Hoom."

Pippin was not quite asleep and neither was I. As we laid quietly, closing our eyes and relaxing deep into our bed of leaves, Pippin sang "Home is Behind," more beautifully than ever, faltering as Merry stirred beside him. I sighed quietly, holding my arm with one hand and felt Pippin's hand brush my other.

"Sleep now," he said with a yawn. "Dream about the stars."

Entmoot—The All Night Ent Party, Complete with More Extreme Boredom

_30 February 3019, of the Third Age_

_10 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

When I awoke, Merry and Pippin were chasing each other and drinking from a stone basin, giggling, until Treebeard came into the clearing and they hid it away.

"Come," Treebeard said. "The forest is waking up… It isn't safe." He reached his arms down and gently plucked us onto his branches again. "The trees have grown wild and dangerous… Anger festers in their hearts… Black are their thoughts… Strong is their hate… They will harm you if they can. There are too few of us now, too few of us Ents left to manage them."

"Why are there so few of you when you have lived so long? Are there Ent children?" Pippin asked kindly.

Treebeard gave a sad "Hoom," and was silent for a moment. "There have been no Entlings for a terrible long count of years."

"Why is that?" Merry asked cautiously.

"We lost the Entwives," Treebeard replied.

"I'm sorry," Pippin said sincerely. "How did they die?"

"Die? No. They did not die. We lost them. And now we cannot find them. I do not suppose you have seen the Entwives in the Shire?"

"Can't say I have," I said. "Merry?"

"No, I'm sorry. Pip?"

"I don't know," Pippin said with a frown. "What do they look like?"

"I do not remember now," Treebeard said sadly and his "hoom" rang long and softly echoed through the trees.

"Look!" Merry cried suddenly. "There's smoke to the south!"

"There's always smoke rising from Isengard these days," Treebeard said.

"Isengard," I muttered, as Merry climbed higher to see over the treetops. Pippin followed suit.

"There was a time when Saruman would walk in my woods, but now he has a mind of metal and wheels. He no longer cares for growing things."

I climbed a few branches more and Merry held me tightly so that I could not fall. The tower of Orthanc rose tall and black, and the ring was completely desecrated. What seemed to be a wide black river was marching away from Isengard, off to the east.

"What is it?" I asked, shivering at the prospect that we would have been brought here to be ultimately killed.

"Saruman's army," Merry said. "The war has started."

In silence, we watched the ten thousand Uruk-kai march off towards the southeast. Pippin looked at me; his green eyes were wide and full of fright.

"Courage, Pip," I said, but my voice cracked in itself.

"The world through which we wander," Treebeard said. "Is full of great things and terrible things. Tell me about your home, Shirelings, and I shall listen, just do not be hasty."

"Our home is beautiful," I said. "There are green hills and fields and trees, untouched by the evils of technology or of the Shadow. We build our homes in the ground and work hard to keep them comfortable and warm to our hearts' content. Every hobbit knows the others and there is nothing but joy and laughter and singing and dancing, even in times such as these. And there are wonderful parties, where we gather to feast and celebrate…"

My words faltered. I could see the Shire in mind's eye. Merry reached up to my left hand and took it in his, giving a reassuring squeeze. He was crying too, with sunny memories of what seemed like an age ago. The flashbacks were smacking me in the face. I could not stop wondering whether we would make it home alive, and if Frodo was going to survive…

"We'll see it again soon," I breathed, and held my green scarf tightly in my hand; the scarf that reminded me painfully of the good days in the Shire.

"Aye, we shall," Merry said.

"But the war…" Pippin gulped. "The war has started!" Then he looked down upon Treebeard. "What are you Ents going to do? Defend Fangorn?"

"The Ents have not troubled with the wars of men and wizards for a very long time. But now, something is about to happen that has not happened for an age."

"What's that?" Pippin asked.

"Entmoot," Treebeard said.

"What's that?"

"'Tis a gathering."

"A gathering of what?" Pippin's eyes were round with wonder like they always were when he grew curious about something.

Treebeard did not answer as we reached a clearing, and more Ents walked out slowly to join us. "Beech…Oak…Chestnut…Ash…Good, hoom, very good…Many have come. Now we must decide…whether the Ents will go to war." He put us down, and Merry flashed a hopeful smile.

A few hours later, we were not hopeful anymore. I sighed as Merry changed the dressings on my arm for the umpteenth time. Pippin fidgeted impatiently and kicked a stone.

"It's been going on for hours," he whined.

"They must have decided something by now," I added.

Treebeard glanced in my direction. "Decided? No. We've only just finished saying good morning."

Merry glared at him and secured the makeshift bandage on my arm. "It's nighttime already! You can't take forever!"

"Don't be hasty," Treebeard said.

Merry took the stone Pippin had kicked and chucked it at the ground as hard as he could. "We're running out of time!" Then he turned to me. "Sleep, if you can, something tells me they're in no rush."

I wasn't tired, just impatient and couldn't stand to wait around much longer. Merry paced and I was busy reminiscing with Pippin, but it hurt more to remember the good times we once had than to just sit silently. Finally, after talking about how we had joined the Fellowship in the first place, I asked Merry, "Will we ever see the others again, do you reckon?"

Merry smiled. "Of course." He sat cross-legged next to me. We looked up at the stars.

"What brought us here, Merry?" I asked, beginning slowly, and then speaking quicker as my questions spilled and my curiosity overtook me. "I mean, why are we here, rather than back at the Shire? Or with Frodo? Why did I come to Hobbiton that day? I just…don't…know what made our paths cross, and forever change our lives."

"Well, each of us is guided by our own destiny," Merry said. "They all begin the same, but lead into different paths. The direction that your journey takes, however, is up to you. You choose who you want to be, and what journey you wish to take, whether you know where you are headed or nay."

"It's just…at first…I thought I would stay with Frodo and Sam, for they seemed to be the closest to me," I said. "Until the time came when everything would change and we would be divided, no matter what happened in the end. I don't know why I didn't follow him, which was what I had thought I'd do, but something held me back and kept me with you. Deep down, I knew it was right, but I just…" I looked at my hands. "It's hard to explain. It's like this…you begin a journey with someone who you think will be next to you forever, and then the person you least expect will become your inseparable companion. And I don't know how that happens."

"You will never really know who you are unless you make your journey," Merry said, and I knew he had explained everything right then and there.

"Merry," Pippin said, touching his arm, and we looked back to see Treebeard approaching.

"We have agreed," Treebeard said, looking pleased.

"Yes?" Merry pushed him on.

"I have told your names to the Entmoot and we have just agreed…that you are not orcs."

Merry's smile faded as Pippin chipped in. "Well, that's good news."

"What about Saruman?" Merry demanded. "Have you come to a decision about _him_?"

"Now, don't be hasty, Master Meriadoc," Treebeard warned. It was always Merry who was hasty.

"Hasty?" Merry snapped. "Hasty?! Our friends are out there! They need our help! They cannot fight this war on their own. And you cannot leave the war to destroy us all!"

"War? Yes…it affects us all…Tree, root, and twig. But you must understand young hobbit... It takes a long time to say anything in old Entish... And we never say anything unless it is worth... taking a long time to say."

Merry closed his mouth and sat with his back to Treebeard in a huff. After another long few hours, Treebeard returned to us.

"The Ents cannot hold back this storm," Treebeard said. "We must weather such things as we have always done."

Merry leapt to his feet furiously. "_How can that be your decision?!_"

"This is not our war," Treebeard argued.

"But you SAID it affects us all…all of us!" I cried, and turned to Merry. He was quite a good speaker.

"You're PART OF THIS WORLD!" Merry thundered. "AREN'T YOU?! You MUST HELP! PLEASE! You must DO SOMETHING!"

Treebeard waved it off and infuriated Merry more. "You are young and brave, Master Merry, but your part in this tale is over. Go back to your home."

Merry stormed off and put his jacket back on, looking lost and dejected. I didn't speak to him. Instead, I crossed my arms, convinced that there must be _something _more we could do.

Pippin touched Merry's shoulder. "Maybe Treebeard's right. We don't belong here, Merry. It's too big for us. What can we do in the end? We've got the Shire…Maybe we should go home."

"You don't understand!" Merry burst out, and then suddenly calmed, resting his hands on his little cousin's shoulders. "The fires of Isengard will spread, and the woods of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn. And all that was once green and good in this world will be gone. There won't _be_ a Shire, Pippin."

The truth was out, and the horror spread on Pippin's face. "I understand," he said slowly, and began to hum nervously to himself.

Merry turned to me. "I didn't want to do it," he sighed. "But he needs to know."  
"I know, Merry," I said, nodding. "I know."


	11. Chapter 11

North, South, East, or West, Ents in the Entmoot Did their Best

_2 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_12 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

In blackened spirits I wrapped my cloak around myself. Treebeard silently picked us up and ignored the fact that we were all very depressed.

"I will leave you at the western borders of the forest. You can make your way north to your homeland from there."

I nodded, and Pippin's voice burst out like a bell. His spirits had taken over and desperately he called out.

"Wait! Stop! Turn around, Treebeard! Take us south!"

Merry looked up in confusion.

"South? But that would lead you past…Isengard," Treebeard said. "Hoom."

Pippin's grin spread over his face and light shone from his eyes. "Yes. Exactly. If we go south we can slip past Saruman unnoticed. The closer we are to danger, the further we are from harm. It's the last thing he'll expect."

Merry raised his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes in his "I-cannot-believe-you-are-so-stupid-do-you-not-know-anything-Pippin-where-do-you-get-your-deranged-ideas" look.

"Hoom. Well, that doesn't make sense to me, but then, you are very small. Perhaps you are right. South it is, then. Hold on, Shirelings, I always like going south. Somehow, it feels like going downhill."

Merry still did not catch on. "Are you mad? We'll be caught!" He whispered furiously.

"No we won't," Pippin said with a grin at coming up with something Merry hadn't. "Not this time."

We approached the border of Isengard as Treebeard talked about field mice tickling his bark, when he gave a loud "Oh," and sadly looked around at the destruction of the outskirts of Fangorn. "Many of these trees were my friends... Creatures I had known from nut and acorn."

"I'm sorry, Treebeard," Pippin said, but he flashed a smile at Merry. It was exactly the reaction he had wanted.

"They had voices of their own," Treebeard continued. "Saruman! A wizard should know better!" Stretching himself out, Treebeard let out a loud howl that caused the entire forest to rumble and shake. "There is no curse in Entish, elvish, or the tongues of men for this treachery!" He cried.

"Look!" I said, pointing suddenly. "The trees are moving!"

"Where are they going?" Merry asked.

"They have business with the orcs. My business is with Isengard tonight," Treebeard said. "Hoom! Come, my friends. The Ents are going to war. It is likely that we go to our doom…In the Last march of the Ents."

"Yes!" Pippin cheered.

We strode over the walls of Isengard, ripping stones from the walls, stomping on the orcs, and destroying everything in the paths of the Ents. Pippin and I went bowling for orcs ourselves, with a triumphant cry from Treebeard.

"A hit. A fine hit!"

Pippin tossed another stone to Merry which hit one orc and then bounced to another. They both fell into Isengards' pits. I threw what stones Pippin tossed to me, missing often but hitting a few orcs in the head. My arms were sore, but I kept throwing, with gritted teeth. "Take that, you beasts," I hissed. "You wanted us to suffer and begging for death…now your master will suffer us!"

Far above, Ents attempted to pull on the wall holding back the river Isen.

"Break the dam!" Treebeard roared. "Release the river!"

They did so, and the water rushed towards Isengard, falling and frothing straight toward us. Treebeard braced himself. "Hold on, young hobbits!" He cried as the water roared our way.

"Pippin!" Merry cried, holding his hand and mine. "Hold on!" The water struck at full force, washing everything in sight away; orcs, machinery, and weapons of all kinds. I saw this just as I closed my eyes for the great spray of water rushing toward us now. I felt the pull of the water and clung to the branches as tightly as I could. Cold water splashed my face and arms and Treebeard staggered back. Pippin cried out, and the roar of the water died down. Finally, I opened my eyes and pushed soggy hair out of my face.

The Ents stood still while the river filled the ring of Isengard, and up in Orthanc, Saruman howled. As the water drained. Treebeard finally plucked us from his shoulders and began to bring us down.

"Wait! Wait!" I cried, looking down at the thick brown water. "We might drown…hobbits can't swim!"

"Hoom…" Treebeard said. "I can feel the ground not far below." Despite my complaints, he let me go in the water. He stood with the water at his ankles though it for us was waist deep.

"He doesn't look happy," I said cheerfully¸ eyeing Saruman at the brink of his tower. "Does he, Merry?"

"Nope. Not happy at all, Mandy," Merry grinned and waved daintily at him. "Still, I suppose the view would be quite nice from up there."

"Oh yes, a quality establishment," Pippin said, jokingly turning over an imaginary deed to Orthanc. "I hear the staff is very good."

I sighed. "Well, the world's back to normal again."

"Nope, it isn't, I'm starving," Pippin placed a hand on his stomach. We had not eaten scarcely anything in four days, and I realized how weak I was.

"Good luck trying to find something decent around here," Merry said unhappily. "Probably only dead rats and moldy bread."

An apple floated by and all three of us looked down at it. More apples joined it and we collected them, before spotting a roasted chicken, wine, and basket full of apples.

"What are the odds?" I laughed, picking up a head of lettuce. Following the food, we entered a huge room just full of food.

"Saruman's storeroom!" Merry smiled, placing his hands on his hips. He eyed some barrels labeled 'Southfarthing.' "It can't be," Merry said quietly.

"I don't believe it," Pippin said firmly.

"It is," Merry exclaimed, opening a barrel. "Longbottom leaf! The finest pipe weed in Southfarthing!" They caught me watching. "Er…one barrel each for Pip and me. You're a bit young to smoke," he added.

I smiled. "Not anymore," and seized his pipe.

"Hey!" Merry laughed.

"I want ale, too," I said, handing back his pipe. "You can have your Longbottom Leaf."

"I get it," Pippin said finally, tapping his nose. "Don't be hasty." He pulled out his pipe.

"Exactly," Merry said, pulling his own out and placing it in his mouth. "Bar hoom!"


	12. Chapter 12

Saruman Insults Our Accomplishments and Plans and Is Overthrown by His Servant

_3 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_13 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

We sat ourselves on a broken gate and ate our fill, joking about everything in general. After a few sips of ale I felt a light and fuzzy feeling, like all my cares were gone, and I felt a tendency to laugh at everything.

"I feel like I'm back at the Green Dragon," Pippin said, blowing smoke rings. "After a hard day's work."

"Only…" Merry said. "You've never done a hard day's work, Pippin."

We burst out giggling. I pet Pippin's head and took another swig of ale. "Pip-Pip is a lazy one," I slurred and immediately started giggling again while Merry slapped me on the back and puffed on his pipe.

Pippin shook his head and rested against the stone, propping his foot on his knee and closing his eyes. I enjoyed the feeling of drinking like a boy and patted Pippin's foot before resting myself.

After a few moments I heard a horse's neigh in the distance. Merry, a little tipsy, stood up and swayed a bit, holding his pipe up high while Pippin kept giggling.

"Welcome, my Lords," Merry shouted. "To Isengard!" He waved a finger in Orthanc's general direction.

I was overjoyed to see Gimli among the men, and I waved excitedly to him. He angrily shook a fist at us. "You young rascals! A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you feasting, and…and smoking!"

"Not I," I said, raising a finger. "Too young to smoke and drink." I held up my mug to show 'twas only a joke.

Pippin stuck his pipe between his teeth so that when he spoke, he had a light lisp. "We are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts." He nodded once. "Oh, and the salted pork is _particularly_ good," he added with a grin. Merry and I nearly collapsed with laughter.

"Salted pork?!" Gimli squeaked.

"Hobbits," Gandalf muttered.

I attempted to sit Merry down, but he kept leaping and jumping away. "We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard," he said with a giggle.

"Come down now," Aragorn sighed, and we leapt from the wall to be pulled onto horses. Merry rode with one of the Rohirrim (the Horse-Lords from Rohan) named Éomer, and Pippin and I mounted Aragorn's horse. Where they had been while we were riding with Treebeard, I did not know. All I knew as I clutched Pippin's waist was that the Fellowship was together once more.

We rode through the flooded ruins of Isengard to the foot of Orthanc, where Treebeard stood.

"Hoom, young Master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come," He said. "Wood and water, stock and stone I can master. But there is a wizard to manage here -- locked in his tower."

"_Young_ Master Gandalf," I mimicked, making Pippin laugh softly.

"Show yourself," Aragorn said quietly.

"Be careful," Gandalf warned him. "Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."

"Well let's just have his head and be done with it!" Gimli growled, and I couldn't help but agree. Saruman was the one who had given orders for Merry, Pippin, and I to be captured and taken to Isengard in the first place. I could not feel sorry for the wizard who wished to torture and kill us in the end. I shivered, thinking of what could have happened in this place if we had not been rescued.

"NO!" Gandalf boomed, making Pippin and I jump. "We need him alive. We need to talk."

Everything was still; the only noise heard from the rippling of waters around Orthanc and the grinding of some broken machinery. Eventually a figure made its way to the very top of Orthanc. I turned my head and squinted against the sun to see white robes. It was Saruman.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King, and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

Théoden was King of Rohan, and he spoke up now. "We shall have peace. We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace."

I squirmed and held Pippin's waist very tightly. I did not know of what this Théoden, King spoke of, but it sounded like Saruman had attempted to destroy his kingdom of Rohan and now wanted peace because he knew he was defeated. I did not yet know the stories of the Fellowship after our kidnapping by the Uruk-kai, so the debating was unfamiliar to me.

"Gibbets and crows? Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess…the Key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"

"Gandalf does not want to rule Middle-Earth as a tyrant," I heard Merry fuming, turning slightly. "He only wants to save our world!"

"Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands now are now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel…" Gandalf did not relent. He wanted to make an alliance with Saruman.

"So you have come here for information. I have some for you." He pulled a dark, swirling glass ball from the folds of his robe and gazed at it. "Something festers in the heart of Middle-earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You're all going to die. But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling, before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

Pippin gasped and squeezed Aragorn so hard that he grunted. "He cannot mean that," He whimpered. "Gandalf does not seek to kill us all as his pawns."

"This is not a game of chess, and we are not pawns," I said. "We are his most trusted knights and rooks. There is nothing that Gandalf wishes to sacrifice, especially not us."

"Thank you," Pippin whispered.

Gimli roared. "I've heard enough!" He looked up at Legolas. "Shoot him! Stick an arrow in his gob!"

Legolas, infuriated with Saruman's assumptions, reached hastily for an arrow, but Gandalf stopped him. The Rohirrim's horses pranced and neighed, fetlock-deep in water.

"No," Gandalf said softly. "Come down Saruman, and your life will be spared."

"Save your pity and your mercy," Saruman spat back. "I have no use for it!" He paused and then gave a tremendous shout as a bolt of fire slammed down on Gandalf. Aragorn's horse reared and whinnied, and Pippin gave a shout.

"Look!" I cried, pointing. Gandalf stood in the fire, holding it back, unharmed.

"Saruman, your staff is broken!" He cried, and Saruman's staff shattered. Pippin murmured a cry of awe as Saruman was overthrown by the true White Wizard. I myself had nothing to say that could satisfy my wonder at seeing Gandalf in his power.

A grimy-looking, greasy-haired and pale man appeared behind just then.

Théoden cried out to him. "Grima, you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a Man of Rohan. Come down!"

"What did Grima do?" I asked in a hushed whisper.

"Not now," Aragorn whispered back. "Much has happened since the Fellowship had broken."

"And to us as well," I shot defiantly back, earning a weak smile from Aragorn.

"Man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan, but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden, Horse-Master. You are a lesser son of greater sires." Saruman spat on the edge of the tower.

I fumed at Saruman's ability to shove salt in all our wounds. Whatever Helm's Deep was, I was sure I would know soon, but angry lines etched themselves in the king's face and he appeared stung by the words. But still he ignored the wizard and spoke to Grima.

"Grima, come down!" He called desperately. "Be free of him!"

"Free? He will never be free!" Saruman shrieked with laughter.

"No," Grima said in a low voice, looking terrified and hurt.

"Get down, cur!" Saruman screamed, and delivered a sharp blow to his face. Grima vanished from sight. Still, Gandalf tried to get information from him.

"Saruman! You were deep in the enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!"

Behind Saruman, Grima stood up, with a knife in hand. Pippin gasped.

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here!"

In an instant, it was all over. Grima stabbed Saruman in the back and Legolas fired an arrow into Grima's chest. Saruman stumbled forward and fell from the tower and I shut my eyes when I saw his landing place below; a spiked wheel machine, and soon after heard the sickening noise as body hit spear. Pippin shook in front of me, and Aragorn just sighed.

"Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle-earth that still stands free," Gandalf told us all. "The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

A sudden creaking alerted us. The wheel with Saruman's impaled body was turning, and the glass ball fell from his sleeve into the water. We watched until Saruman was completely submerged. Then, Treebeard spoke.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away. Trees will come back to live here," he said softly. Hope for Isengard, at least, had been restored. And it had also for Pippin, Merry, and me. We had destroyed Saruman and his keep.

Pippin, spotting the ball suddenly, grew inquisitive and leapt from Aragorn's steed to retrieve it. I saw the curiosity in his eyes as he rushed towards it.

"Young trees, wild trees," Treebeard sighed happily.

"Pippin!" Aragorn scolded. I remained mounted.

Pippin picked up the heavy ball and held it carefully, not letting his eyes wander to anything else.

"Bless my bark," Treebeard hoomed.

"Peregrin Took!" Gandalf said sternly, walking his beautiful white mount to Pippin, who glanced up guiltily at Gandalf. "I'll take that, my lad."

Pippin reluctantly looked back at the ball in his hands.

"Quickly now!" Gandalf ushered.

Pippin handed it to him, and then looked quickly away. Gandalf wrapped the ball in his cloak, and looked around at all of us, nodding to go. With some assistance, Pippin remounted behind me, and we were off.

Edoras Throws a Great Party where Reminiscing is Hot and Curiosity Kills the Cat

_It's all coming back to me now._

-Celine Dion

_4 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_14 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

We galloped across the plains to Théoden's capital of Edoras, a gallop that lasted two days. When we got there, on the 4th, there was a tremendous roar of laughter and celebration which, Aragorn explained, was due to the events that I did not know. Yet.

Before he began his long story, however, he asked me precisely what had happened under the cruel regime of the Uruk-kai.

"I slept, mostly, and they made us run," I said. "There wasn't much to eat, and they handled us roughly..." Aragorn unsheathed his sword and tapped my leg gently with it, lifting the hem of my skirt a bit to see the whip scars that had been given to me from the Uruk-kai, the ones that littered my calves. I blushed when he accused me of understating their cruel power.

"There's more than just this, isn't there?" He said slyly, eyeing my purple arms and wrists, where I'd pushed the sleeves up to my elbows and allowed everyone to see the bruises and scars I received in the short time I was prisoner of the Uruk-kai. He glanced again, at the angry raw sore which wound its way around my wrists from my bonds.

I didn't say anything, except I made sure to keep my left arm away from his sight, which leaked with blood (though I strongly suspected he knew I had been injured) and he shrugged and continued with his recollections.

After our capture, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli tracked the Uruk-kai party until they met Éomer and the Rohirrim, who updated them with the news that Théoden, King of Rohan was being controlled by Saruman through Grima Wormtongue, who was once a man of Rohan. Éomer, realizing that Rohan was being defeated by Saruman, had attempted to tell the king and confronted Grima, who in response banished him and his Rohirrim on pain of death. They fled, tracked down, destroyed the Uruk-kai pack, and the next morn informed Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn of it. Thinking we were dead, Aragorn found our trail, tracked it into Fangorn and met the reincarnated Gandalf, who introduced them to the Lord of Horses, his beautiful white stallion Shadowfax. They rode to Edoras and freed Théoden from Saruman and Wormtongue's control. Wormtongue escaped to Isengard while Théoden, along with his niece Éowyn and nephew Éomer, decided to march the people of Rohan to Helm's Deep, the last fortress in Rohan, to defend their kingdom from Isengard's forces. On the way, they were attacked by the orcs of Isengard and their mounts, the Wolves of Isengard. Aragorn was thrown over a cliff and drifted to a shore where his beloved horse, Brego, rescued him and they rode to Helm's Deep. Later that night, the fortress was attacked by ten thousand of Isengard's forces, the forces we'd seen marching earlier in the day, and with the only defense being three hundred men and two thousand elves. The battle lasted until morning, and when it seemed Rohan was lost, Gandalf and Shadowfax arrived with the Rohirrim, and the battle was turned over. Finally, with the Rohirrim and King Théoden, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn traveled to Isengard and thus met Merry, Pippin, and me there.

As Aragorn finished his story, Théoden, at the head of the hall with Éowyn and Éomer, raised his hands to the crowd, and we were silent.

Théoden looked proudly on us all before he offered us his goblet. "Tonight," he said triumphantly, "we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!"

There was a roar and the men cried "Hear, hear!" Before raising their own cups and drinking, and finally returning to whatever activities had before occupied them.

Aragorn paused a moment, looking solemnly at Théoden, who gave him a returning nod, and he too took a small sip of his cup.

Éowyn left her uncle's side then, and approached, as Aragorn and I looked around at the laughing and drinking Rohirrim men. Looking intently at Aragorn, Éowyn shyly handed him a goblet.

"Westu Aragorn hál!" She said with a smile.

Aragorn smiled weakly back and took the goblet from her hands with a slight nod, taking a sip to please her. He then stood up and walked away, leaving me alone with Éowyn. She looked at her hands and then brushed some hair out of my face.

"You are very brave," she said. I beamed. "I have heard great things about you."

"I have not done anything half as worth the others," I said humbly.

"Not in your eyes, perhaps," Éowyn smiled. "But in ours, you are as worthy as any one of our soldiers. A shieldmaiden of Rohan, or wherever you have been."

I blushed and turned away. "I will join the others," I said quickly, and picking up my skirts, I followed Aragorn's trail and stood beside him and Gandalf. Behind me, Éowyn stood silently, as her uncle, the King, joined her.

From a tabletop nearby, Merry and Pippin danced with their mugs, singing of their loyalties to the Shire. Men around them laughed and pointed as they kicked up their feet and leapt, swinging their ale. My heart yearned to be with them. I stayed where I was, the words of the familiar song on my tongue.

"_Oh, you can search far and wide; you can drink the whole world dry! _

_But you'll never find a beer so brown as the one they drink in my hometown! _

_You can keep your fancy ales; you can drink them by the flagon! _

_But the only brew for the brave and true…"_

Merry turned to me and winked, and Gandalf, with a chuckle, shook his head.

"…_comes from the Green Dragon!"_

The crowd cheered around me, but I stared blankly ahead, thinking of the Green Dragon and the wonderful times we had there. Homesickness overtook me, and I was silent.

"Thank you!" Merry and Pippin grinned and bowed, taking deep drinks from their mugs.

"No news of Frodo," Aragorn sighed above me. I pretended I was watching Merry and Pippin when I actually was listening to Aragorn and Gandalf's conversation. The words had startled me, when I heard "Frodo." I imagined Aragorn had brought the subject up on purpose, to make me blush. Or mourn.

"No word. Nothing," Gandalf replied.

They seemed to ignore my presence. I don't know if they noticed I had reappeared at all; I was being very quiet and was very small.

"We have time," Aragorn continued. "Every day Frodo moves closer to Mordor."

Gandalf seemed to wake up. He looked straight at Aragorn. "Do we know that?"

Aragorn turned his head too and placed a hand on Gandalf's shoulder. "What does your heart tell you?"

Gandalf was silent. My own head was filled with worry and I thought of Frodo, of his face and his touch and his eyes and of the warmth that filled the air when he laughed, and the smell of sausages cooking in Bag End, and the joyous laughter of Sam and Merry and Pippin…and sitting in the meadows reading and writing and doing hobbit-like things. Of Frodo's determination as he stepped forth and as the Fellowship formed around him, and Sam pledged undying loyalty, as did Merry, Pippin, and I as we stood with him. Of everything we had left behind, back home.

"That Frodo is alive," I said softly. Surprised, Gandalf and Aragorn both locked eyes on me, and I turned my head upwards to meet their eyes. Gandalf's gaze fell for a second. He looked so aged, so wise.

"Yes," Gandalf whispered, and then a smile grew on his face. "Yes, he's alive."

After the party began to quiet and darken, my fellow hobbits and I helped Gandalf, Aragorn, and Legolas set up makeshift beds on cots waiting in one of the rooms of the great golden hall of Meduseld. As we climbed in the soft pallets, sighing with happiness after sleeping on nothing but rough ground for almost a moon, Aragorn and Legolas left the room.

"Where are _you_ going?" Merry asked.

"Outside, for a spell," Legolas replied from under his hooded cloak.

Merry shook his head but said nothing more.

I was drifting off when Pippin stirred in his sleep. It startled me at first, until I realized he was just turning over, although it happened again and again after. Pippin groaned and kicked his blankets before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Merry murmured, half asleep.

Pippin didn't answer. I was wide awake now, watching him as he pushed his blankets aside, tiptoeing towards Gandalf's pallet.

"Pippin!" I whispered warningly.

Seeing Gandalf's face, Pippin took a step backwards, but his gaze remained on something Gandalf held wrapped in cloth, keeping it close to him.

"Pippin!" I said again, and Merry glared at him behind his back.

Pippin waved his hand in front of Gandalf's face. When he didn't react, he reached for a pitcher. As he turned back, Gandalf began muttering in his sleep, his eyes staring blankly ahead.

"Pippin! Pippin, don't!" Merry growled. "Are you mad?!"

His little cousin took the thing in Gandalf's arms and quickly put the pitcher in its place.

"I just want to look at it," Pippin said excitedly. "Just…one more time…" He unwrapped the thing and revealed the dark crystal ball that he had picked up earlier that day and barely given up.

"Put it back!" I hissed. "Quickly, come now!"

Pippin did not look up from the ball. He knelt on the ground with the ball between his palms and gazed, as though in a trance, as lights swirled from its depths.

Suddenly, the Eye of Sauron appeared, scaring Merry, Pippin and I. "No, Pippin!" I cried, as his hands became fixed to it and he gave the Eye a frightened glare. His breath came in gasps as the Eye laughed loudly, the voice deep and cracked as it sounded like a bell, words in the black language that seemed to shake my very bones and churn my blood to dust, and set shadows in every place that still had light.

"I SEE YOU!" The voice suddenly boomed, and Pippin jumped up, holding the fiery ball, his mouth opened in pain. He shook it and struggled before collapsing to the floor, shaking and screaming silently, as though he was having a seizure.

"Pippin!" Merry and I cried. I clenched my blankets, frozen in position on the pallet, watching Pippin's torture with the ball of fire. "Gandalf!" Merry continued to cry out. "Someone, help him!"

Finally, I jumped from the bed and ran to Pippin's side, reaching my hands to take the ball from him. Immediately, he released it and fell over, and Sauron's Eye etched itself in my thoughts. He laughed at me and instant, white-hot pain burst through my body. I screamed and shook, attempting to let go of the thing in my hands, but it could not be done. I could not see anything but a fire burning throughout my body, blistering it and destroying it. It was over in just ten seconds…I had not seen Aragorn or Legolas in the room as I wrestled the ball from Pippin, but they had taken it from me, and finally, dropped it to the floor, where it rolled away. Gandalf threw a blanket over it.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf boomed.

"Pippin!" I cried weakly, falling to my knees and nearly keeling over. I looked at my palms, still stinging from the feel of the ball, and with a cry of relief I realized my body had not been burned to cinders. Pippin was laying on the floor, lying with his unaware eyes open, his face contorted in a slightly aghast expression.

Gandalf crouched over him as Merry crawled to me and rubbed my shoulders. "Are you alright?" He mouthed, holding me close.

As I nodded and shivered, Gandalf touched Pippin's forehead gently and he startled awake, shaking and gasping and crying.

"Look at me," Gandalf said gently, holding his face in his large palm. Pippin's small hands clutched it. They were ashy and pale.

"Gandalf…" He stammered weakly. "Forgive me…"

"Look at me!" He shook Pippin's cheek. "What did you see?"

Pippin closed his eyes painfully. "I saw…" he began, and then opened them again, wide. "I saw a tree…a white tree…" Then he grew sorrowful and looked away. "In a courtyard of stone…

"It was dead."

Gandalf's eyes widened also.

"The city was burning," Pippin explained.

"Minas Tirith," Gandalf told him. "Is that what you saw?"

This seemed to startle something inside Pippin's head, for he shook and began to cry again. "I saw…I saw _him!" _He cried hoarsely, and then his voice softened. "I could hear his voice in my head."

"What did you tell him?" Gandalf was anxious. He looked at me; I was breathing heavily still, and tensed when Pippin mentioned Sauron. "Speak!"

Pippin flinched, took a deep breath, and licked his lips. "He asked me my name. I didn't answer. He hurt me…"

"What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?"

Pippin stared at Gandalf, looking perturbed and scared. "Nothing," he said.


	13. Chapter 13

White Wizard on a White Horse to the White City with the White Tree and White Throne

_5 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_15 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Gandalf, Théoden, Éomer, Gimli, Aragorn, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, and I gathered in the Golden Hall, Meduseld, the next morning to discuss what had happened when Pippin looked into the glass ball. The palantír, Gandalf called it. Pippin slumped on a stool beside Merry and I, ashamed of standing with the others, the ones who had made no foolish decisions; only honest ones.

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," Gandalf began. "A fool, but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring. We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the palantír a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing. He knows the heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still -- strength enough, perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of middle earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of Men. If the beacons of Rohan are lit, Rohan must be ready for war!"

"Tell me," Théoden said bitterly, "why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

Gandalf looked at him.

"I will go," Aragorn said.

"No, Gandalf replied.

"They must be warned!" Aragorn persisted.

"They will be," Gandalf said softly. He spoke to Aragorn alone, then announced his plans to us. "Understand this; Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith," Gandalf looked over at Pippin, Merry, and I. We immediately straightened up. "And I won't be going alone."

We started to the stables, where we three trailed behind Gandalf. I tried to ignore Merry and Pippin's endless bickering, but it was unavoidable.

Gandalf cried impatiently behind him. "Of all the inquisitive hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst! Hurry, Hurry!"

"Where are we going?" Pippin asked Merry, but Merry ignored him.

"Why did you look?" He asked angrily. "Why do you always have to look?"

"I don't know. I can't help it…"

"You never can," Merry added nastily.

Pippin stopped, tears springing to his eyes. "I'm sorry, alright? I won't do it again!"

Merry stopped too, taking hold of my arm. "Don't you understand? The enemy thinks you have the ring." He looked at me. "They're going to be looking for you, and Pippin. They know your faces. We have to get you out of here." He started off again.

"And…you…you're coming with me?" Pippin cried. "Merry?"

"Come on," Merry said without turning around.

Pippin and I trotted after him, where Gandalf waited with his beautiful, towering white horse. He plucked Pippin up and placed him on Shadowfax's back lightly. Pippin took hold of some wispy hairs of the horse's great mane.

"Where are we going?" Pippin asked. I meant to back away to where Merry stood, but to my utter surprise Gandalf lifted me up to sit in front of Pippin. I hadn't anticipated going with them

"Minas Tirith, Peregrin Took, The Tower of the Guard," Gandalf said.

"And how far to Minas Tirith?"

"Three days' ride, as the Nazghûl flies," he replied. "And we'd better hope we don't have one of those on our tail."

Pippin grimaced, but looked down at Merry as he approached. "Here," Merry said, his voice softening. "Something for the road…" He handed Pippin a leathery packet.

"The last of the Longbottom Leaf…" Pippin's words caught in his throat, and I knew he was thinking as I was; of the stores of Isengard and our victory we had celebrated not long ago.

"I know you've run out," Merry continued, doing his best to nag, like a big cousin should. "You smoke too much, Pippin."

"We'll see each other soon…won't we?" Pippin's hands were shaking and he was gaping at Merry, fearful that they would be separated forever.

Merry looked at Gandalf, who mounted behind Pippin, and back at his little cousin. "I don't know," he said, his voice shaking with tears as he stepped backwards, into the shadows. His voice grew weaker as he spoke. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"Merry?" Pippin whispered, his eyes filling with tears as he dug his hands into my waist.

"Run, Shadowfax; show us the meaning of haste," Gandalf said, and the horse snorted.  
"MERRY!" Pippin cried, and Shadowfax burst into a full gallop, out of the stables and over Rohan's plains, and Pippin turned back, his eyes puffy and crimson, tears falling one by one to the ground we soon passed. High above the plains, on a watchtower, Merry stood with Aragorn. Pippin and I held each other, hanging our heads, as Shadowfax galloped farther and farther away, until we had come over several hills and turned our course so that we couldn't see the city of Edoras anymore.

Pippin's sobs caught in his throat and he choked and sniffed, his tears hot on the back of my neck as he buried his face into my hair and held me tight.

It wasn't long before our tears of separation had left us completely, and Pippin and I grew drowsy from the rhythmic rocking of the great horse's back, as a mother hobbit might have rocked her baby to sleep in a cradle before he left on treacherous adventures. I found myself in a lovely dream that we had been at Edoras, and Frodo and Sam had come back before Gandalf made Pippin and I go with him. I was running, running to Frodo's arms, welcoming him home, and his bright blue eyes were full of light again as he opened his mouth to say my name, and his face coming clearer and closer. In my dreams I could hear Pippin's voice singing.

"_As fleet as a shadow the earth we pass _

_The world behind us to vanish from sight_

_Faster we fly, under sun and o'er grass _

_Not choosing to sleep as day turns to night _

_Mountains in the distance, valleys below…"_

_9 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_19 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

_I've heard that song before;_ my head whispered in my dreams, as dreams sometimes had a way of letting life's petty worries creep in. _Though I swear he's got the words wrong. Afleet, like a shadow, the earth we pass..._

Soon, Pippin's singing roused me, and I opened my eyes to hear Gandalf cry out above Shadowfax's pounding hooves.

"We've just passed into the realm of Gondor!" We galloped over a stream and up a small hillock, and once we reached the top, Pippin and I stared in awe at what was before us; a magnificent white city built of seven levels into the mountains behind. "Minas Tirith," Gandalf said. "City of Kings."

We flew over the plains easily and rode straight into the city, climbing the many levels one by one, until we had reached the very top and trotted through a large gate of the Citadel Courtyard.

Gandalf dismounted onto the courtyard overlooking the lands we left behind, and helped Pippin and I down as well. As we walked towards a tall tower, Pippin cocked his head at a dead white tree.

"Gandalf…" Pippin exclaimed. "It's the tree! Gandalf!" He tugged at Gandalf's robes.

"Yes, the White Tree of Gondor…The Tree of the King. Lord Denethor, however, is not king. He is a steward only; a caretaker of the throne."

"Mmm…Aragorn's throne…" I said softly.

Pippin nodded excitedly in agreement.

"Now listen carefully," Gandalf said, pausing before the door to speak with us. "Lord Denethor is Boromir's father." I opened my mouth, and Gandalf nodded. "To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise."

Pippin and I exchanged surprised looks and proceeded up one stair before Gandalf paused again. "And do not mention Frodo or the Ring…" He frowned as he stared off into space, and then suddenly he turned back to us. "And say nothing of Aragorn, either. In fact…" Gandalf scratched his head and put one hand on the door. "It's better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took. You either, Adamanta."

As we nodded again, the doors opened and we took our first steps into the citadel; a towering white marble hall with two thrones at one end. I felt Pippin's hand brush mine and he squeezed it as we walked together, our little feet making _pat-pat-pat-pat_ noise on the smooth, shining stone. I couldn't help feeling overwhelmed and pathetic, poor and ragged in the eyes of the majestic hall. As we approached the smaller throne, Gandalf knelt on one knee. Pippin and I remained standing, though Pippin meant to bend. I squeezed his hand once to stop him. I would not be made into some kind of lowly servant.

_Pride leadeth to a fall,_ went the old proverb, stuck in my mind. I ignored it.

"Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion," He said nobly to the man in thick black robes sitting with his face in his lap, as though grieving. "Lord and Steward of Gondor. I come with tidings in this dark hour, and with counsel."

The black throne that Lord Denethor sat upon was set upon a staircase of white marble which led to a white throne. In his lap, he revealed pieces of a very familiar ox horn.

"The horn of Gondor," I breathed, and Pippin squeezed my hand again.

"Perhaps you come to explain this. Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead," Denethor looked up with piercing eyes, his fleshy lip in an angry grimace.

Pippin and I stared from Gandalf's side. Pippin met my eyes and then looked back at the horn. I knew from his eyes flickering and his restless, sweaty palms that he was flashing back to Amon Hen, when Boromir gave his parting words of sorrow to us and gave his life to defend us. Any harsh words I had against Boromir I immediately gave up, from the image of him being struck with arrows. I shut my eyes and felt Pippin flinch as he released my hand and knelt in front of the Steward, earning a disbelieving and disgusted look from Denethor.

"Boromir died to save us," I said with a quavering voice.

"My kinsman and us," Pippin continued, gesturing at me. "He fell defending us from many foes."

"Pippin!" Gandalf said through gritted teeth, but Pippin did not move. I followed his lead and knelt beside him.

"We offer you our service, such as it is, in payment of this debt," he finished. That, I did not expect, and slighted my head at Pippin. Had he finally lost all control? Simply because a warrior died for us did not mean we should fall to our knees and become slaves for his father!

_Pride leadeth to a fall._

If this was our fate, then what would become of great Denethor?

Denethor moved his feet back from our small forms and winced as we spoke. "And this is my first request." The man did not wait for anything, did he? He stared down at Pippin, attempting to speak kindly. "How is it that you, helpless Halflings, escaped, while a great warrior such as Boromir, did not?"

Helpless Halflings. _Helpless_. I felt a blow strike my heart.

I nudged Pippin to keep him polite, though his voice was cool. He spoke to Denethor's ankles. "A great warrior may be killed by one arrow," Pippin said, and lifted his face to Denethor's. "Boromir was pierced by many."

Gandalf grew annoyed and delivered a light smack to each of our backs. "Get up," he growled. As he walked in front of us (and delivering very angry glances) he said, "My Lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now. War is coming…The enemy is on your doorstep! As steward, you are charged with the defense of this city. Where are Gondor's armies? You still have friends! You are not alone in this fight; send to word to Théoden of Rohan…Light the beacons!"

Denethor glowered. "You think you are wise, Mithrandir, yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. Do you think the eyes of the White Tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor, and with the right you'd seek to supplant me! I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan…Oh yes, the word has reached my ears of this Aragorn son of Arathorn, and I tell you now, I will not bow to this Ranger from the North…Last of a ragged house, long bereft of lordship!"

"Authority is not given you to deny the return of the king, Steward!" Gandalf said sternly.

Denethor rose from the throne and we shrank back. "The rule of Gondor is mine!" He roared. "And no other's!"

Gandalf glared at him, and turned to Pippin and me before strolling out. "Come," he said. "And mind you obey this time."


	14. Chapter 14

We, the Guards of the Citadel, think Mordor is Much too Close for Comfort

_The surest way to prevent war is not to fear it._

--John Randolph

Gandalf muttered to himself, walking so briskly as we exited the citadel that Pippin and I had to trot to keep up. "All has turned to vain ambition. He would even use his grief as a cloak…" He grumbled as we walked out from the citadel and into the courtyard.

"A thousand years this city has stood. Now, at the whim of a madman, it will fall. And the White Tree, the tree of the king, will never bloom again."

"Why are they still guarding it?" Pippin asked, stepping around a fountain and looking up at the soldiers standing round the White Tree.

"They guard it because they have hope…" In curiosity, I walked ahead as Gandalf kept talking of the fall of Minas Tirith and Gondor, and Pippin caught up. The three of us halted, however, at the edge of the courtyard, a sheer drop to the wintered plains, the Pelennor Fields, where the world fell away at our feet. I glanced around at the White City while Gandalf spoke. "…A faint and fading hope that one day it will flower…that a king will come and this city will be as it once was, before it fell into decay. The old wisdom borne out of the West was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living, and counted the old names of their descent, dearer than the names of their sons. Childless lords sat in aged halls, musing on heraldry, or in high, cold towers, asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of kings failed. The White Tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."

"Aragorn will save them," I said proudly. "He will save us."

Gandalf and Pippin said nothing, and Pippin shivered as he looked up at the towering dark mountains on Gondor's borders, beyond the city of Osgiliath far below. A burst of red light erupted from behind the mountain range, the Mountains of Shadow.

"Mordor…" Pippin murmured to me.

"Yes, there it lies," Gandalf remarked. "This city has dwelt ever in the sight of its shadow."

"A storm is coming," I pointed out. "See the dark clouds…"

"This is not the weather of the world. This is a device of Sauron's making…a broil of fume he sends ahead of his host. The Orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight, so he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the Shadow of Mordor reaches the city, it will begin."

Pippin shivered and I edged closer to him, scared of being so close to the Land of Shadow. He seemed to ease and shrugged one shoulder, then the other, and stretched. "Well, Minas Tirith. Very impressive. So, where are we off to next?"

"Oh, it's too late for that, Peregrin," Gandalf chuckled. "There's no leaving this city. Help must come to us."

He grumbled as we walked through the white city, nodding at the civilians of Minas Tirith, who pointed at Pippin and me and whispered. The people's unfamiliar words pricked my mind. It was elvish, no doubt, but what they meant I had no earthly idea.

"What do they say about us?" I asked staring in wonder at the white stone terraces and intricate artistry. The buildings were lined with columns and Romanesque windows, and I had to hold my feet steady to keep from slipping on the white cobblestones. The people stared—women in gray or purple gowns and headdresses—the men in silver armor. Everywhere flew the same flag—a pennant and a white tree.

Gandalf, all the while, said nothing in response, and we followed his brisk pace.

A quarter-hour of a walk later we descended into a columned white stone room somewhere around the fifth level, Pippin sighed and took my hand, tugging it. "Look at this," he said, walking to a low table where uniforms were laid out to us, and armor and swords. I immediately felt for the scarf around my neck and realized how I wanted to keep my old clothes and trusty sword.

"Wearers of Black and Silver," I said with a sigh, touching the threaded white tree emblazoned on the front of our black velvet clothing, and the silver mail beneath that.

"So, I imagine this is just a ceremonial position. I mean, they don't actually expect me…us, to do any fighting. Do they?" Pippin looked up, and his joking smile faded. "Do they, Gandalf?"

"You're in the service of the Steward now," Gandalf said mockingly. "You're going to have to do as you're told, Peregrin Took."

He took a puff on his pipe and began coughing. I rushed to a pitcher of water set up on the table, poured Gandalf a glass, and took it to him out on the balcony.

"Ridiculous hobbits," he chortled in between coughs. "Guards of the Citadel."

I tapped the cup against his elbow because he didn't see me.

"Oh, thank you Adamanta. That reminds me. You had asked of the words of the people of Minas Tirith. They seem to have it in their heads that you hobbits are noble kinsmen. 'Ernil I Pheriannath,' they said. 'Aranel I Pheriannath.'"

"But what does that mean?" I persisted.

Gandalf chuckled. "They mean to say you are the Prince and Princess of the Halflings. They believe you are of high rank, of nobility, because you are with me and you…well you just sparked their curiosity. Enough said. Do not drill it into your heads. Your foolishness tells the truth in all that."

I frowned.

Pippin joined us once more, in his nightclothes. I left the balcony for a moment and closed myself in a small closet to pull off my red gown, stuff it hastily in my pack. When I returned to Pippin I too, had my nightclothes and shift under it. We rested our arms on the balcony that was about as high as our necks, and looked down at the world below.

"There's no more stars," I said with a shudder. "Is it time?"

"Yes."

"It's so quiet," Pippin said in a hushed voice.

"It's the deep breath before the plunge," Gandalf replied.

"I don't want to be in a battle," Pippin said firmly, "but waiting at the edge of one I can't escape is even worse." He was quiet for an instant, and then changed the subject. "Is there any hope, Gandalf, for Frodo and Sam?"

"There never was much hope; just a fool's hope. Our enemy is ready, His full strength's gathered; not only orcs...but men as well. Legions of Haradhrim from the south, mercenaries from the coast. All will answer Mordor's call." He paused for a moment to smoke again. "This will be the end of Gondor as we know it. Here the hammer-stroke will fall hardest. If the river is taken; if the garrison at Osgiliath falls, the last defense of this city will be gone."

"But we have the White Wizard," Pippin grinned. "That's got to count for something. Gandalf?"

Gandalf couldn't meet our eyes. I recognized the look. It was the look when one so eager to hear words of comfort and hope cannot hear because there is none left. And when the truth cannot be hidden, the terrible and ghastly truth that takes happiness and strength and courage and crushes it in its fist. Sauron could do that, and he was just a flaming eye. Even Gandalf could not hide his worry, and he was stronger than anything. He broke the White Wizard's staff, and taken over! Defeated a Balrog! Him, worried, was something that made me clench the balcony wall and hang as though my life were about to leave if I should let go.

"Sauron has yet to reveal his deadliest servant. The one who will lead Mordor's armies in war…the one they say no living man can kill. The Witch King of Angmar." Then Gandalf looked straight at Pippin and me. "You've met him before. He stabbed Frodo at Weathertop."

I blinked back flashes of Frodo's pale face and the screams that followed, and the fear that came after that, the fear that Frodo would not live the night…and Pippin's comforting me…

"Yes," I murmured. "We have met him before."

"He is the Lord of the Nazghûl, the greatest of the nine. Minas Morgul is his lair."

As we watched, a bright green flair rose into the air from Minas Morgul, somewhere hidden in the mountains. It didn't seem Minas Morgul did that every day normally, and suddenly Mordor felt uncomfortably close. I jumped back and edged closer to Gandalf, Pippin the same.

"We come to it at last. The great battle of our time," Gandalf whispered. Gandalf whispered, and he beckoned us to bed. Pippin and I climbed into a bunk together, and Gandalf stayed out on the balcony, murmuring to himself. Pippin threw a blanket over us and wrapped his arms tight around me.

"I'm scared," he whimpered, his voice muffled by my shoulder. He released his grip and relaxed, getting comfortable and sinking down into the pillows. I groped for his hand and squeezed it, giving a reassuring smile, which he returned. Gandalf spoke one last sentence before I drifted off to sleep, which I know he had purposely wanted us to hear.

"The board is set. The pieces are moving…"

The Chess Game begins, and the Beacons are Lit Against Orders

_The future is lighted for us with the radiant colors of hope. _

_Strife and sorrow shall disappear. Peace and love shall reign supreme._

--John Fiske

_ 10 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_ 20 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

The next morning, after the sun had risen, Gandalf led us through the streets of Minas Tirith until he at one point turned around. "Peregrin and Adamanta, young hobbits, there is a task now to be done; another opportunity for one of the Shire-folk to prove their great worth."

He looked up and our heads followed, to a beacon tower set high above the citadel.

"You must not fail me," Gandalf said urgently. "Or Minas Tirith will not last."

I nodded and knew Pippin was nodding next to me. Our task, as Gandalf and Frodo's words echoed, was to light the beacons that would signal Minas Tirith's need for aid. Once they reached Rohan, Théoden King would answer it. We held hands and walked briskly to the tall peak, preparing to climb. "Pippin, you go first," I said.

"No, you," he replied. "That is, if you should fall or lose your grip, you have me behind you."

"You have no one," I said. "Besides all, we're hobbits. We shan't lose our grip on anything."

"That is my idea," Pippin grinned, and the climb began.

We climbed for a long time up the tall peak, knowing Gandalf was watching and hoping no one else noticed. No time to turn back now, and no way for onlookers to reach us. We kept climbing.

"I don't expect we'll be staying here long," Pippin said cheerfully from underneath me. "I'll probably end up angering Denethor somehow just so I don't have to fight, or annoying Gandalf so much with my foolishness that he'd send me home."

"I'm not serving _him—_Denethor, I mean, alone," I said, finding a handhold in the stone. "Not someone who thinks hobbits vermin and servants."

"When I get home…" Pippin sighed, changing the subject, "I'm finding the…the biggest barrel of Longbottom leaf, and I'll smoke all of it. Then I'll go to the Green Dragon and have ale with the best barmaids in the Westfarthing."

"And I shall write every adventure as Bilbo did once," I said, sighing with happiness. "And every day, we can read a chapter together and remember all that we went through, curled up next to Bag End's cozy fire…and we'll cook sausages and good meat every night! No more bread and Lembas and weak tea."

When we reached the top, Pippin crept along behind the tall stack of oily wood behind me, shaking as we climbed the wood, trying not to catch the attention of the guards sitting not more than a hundred feet away. I reached for the lamp hanging above a bowl of oil, but the rope that held the oil snapped and spilled some. Pippin assisted me. He reached for the lamp and dropped it on the wood, before quickly jumping down when we saw that the rest of the wood would soon catch. We gripped hands in celebration and we laughed as the soldiers stupidly shouted and pointed at the blazing beacon, while Pippin and I safely climbed down. In midair, clinging to a rock ledge, I allowed the wind to blow my hair and cloak around while watching the next beacon see the signal and light their beacon.

"Yes," I breathed, while people below us pointed.

"The beacon!" They shouted. "The beacon of Amon Dîn is lit!"

"Hope is kindled," I whispered.

"Aye, it is," Pippin grinned, and we continued to climb down as one by one, the beacons edged closer to Rohan.

When we reached Gandalf he was both pleased and not. "Osgiliath is falling," he said. "The men are retreating." As he spoke, he ushered us to follow as he retrieved Shadowfax from the stables on the fifth level. Along the walls people watched as the defenders of Osgiliath fled. My stomach kinked as I recognized the squeals of the Ringwraiths, and hoped the watchers weren't ashamed of their soldiers. If only they knew the danger! Gandalf helped us up and wasted no time, leaping up on Shadowfax's back, urging him to gallop out at a full sprint out to the retreating men on their horses. Ringwraiths on wings flew above them, lifting men and horses and dropping them in the air while the others edged their mounts to go faster. Both sets of men, the attacked and not, were screaming pitifully from fear as they tried their best to avoid the fell things. Pippin and I cried in agony as the wraiths shrieked, and Shadowfax thundered towards the scattered herd of frightened men. Gandalf sat tall and ignored the shouts.

"It's Mithrandir! It's the White Rider!" The soldiers cried with hope.

Gandalf lifted his staff which began to glow white as we approached the soldiers, and the bright light drove the Ringwraiths away, squealing, their mounts writhing and twisting in the air as they retreated. Shadowfax snorted and galloped faster as Gandalf released his staff's light and joined the rest of the soldiers on their way back to Minas Tirith.

"I never want to see another again," I whispered, fiercely clutching Pippin's waist.

The gate guard saw the band of horses fleeing towards the city. "Pull!" He ordered, and the gate opened as Shadowfax and we trotted in with them.

"Mithrandir!" A handsome, young soldier shouted breathlessly as he halted his horse and Shadowfax stopped next to him. "They broke through our defenses. They've taken the bridge and the west bank. Battalions of orcs are crossing the River!"

"It is as Lord Denethor predicted! Long has he foreseen this doom!" His companion added.

Gandalf glowered. "Foreseen and done nothing!" He spat, and turned back to Pippin and I, who were staring at the mysterious leader of the brave soldiers. He caught our eye with curiosity, staring, and we turned to one another, embarrassed, averting our eyes.

"Faramir? This is not the first Halfling to have crossed your path?" Gandalf said, in an almost accusing tone.

"No," Faramir said, looking down.

"You've seen Frodo and Sam!" I exclaimed, exchanging smiles with Pippin.

Faramir nodded, lifting his head to make eye contact.

"Where? When?" Gandalf asked in amazement. Pippin and I squealed with happiness and hope, as Shadowfax shifted beneath us.

"In Ithilien, not two days ago. Gandalf…" He stared at Gandalf, looking grave. "They've taken the road to the Morgul Vale."

"And then the Pass of Cirith Ungol," Gandalf finished, looking horrified. Pippin and my smiles vanished.

"What does that mean? What's wrong?" Pippin cried.

"Faramir, tell me everything. Tell me all you know," Gandalf said, ignoring Pippin, and ignoring me.

Shadowfax and Faramir on his horse galloped to our quarters, where Gandalf helped Pippin and I dismount. "You will begin your servitude quite soon, Peregrin and Adamanta, and in full consequence of your stupidity. Peregrin, get dressed and wait in the citadel for Adamanta. Denethor has requested her alone. I must talk with Faramir."


	15. Chapter 15

Where Faramir is Forced to Be Sacrificed and Pippin is Forced to Sing

_Or they turn their heads embarrassed, pretend that they don't see_

_That it's one misstep one slip before you know it. _

_And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed..._

--Sarah McLachlan, _Fallen_

_13 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_23 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

I sighed at the uniforms we were to garb. "Adamanta Bolo," I said miserably. "Hobbit of the Shire, One of Ten Companions of the Fellowship of the Ring, Prisoner of Uglúk, Scourer of Isengard, Guard of the Citadel, Lighter of the Beacons of Gondor, and now…" I picked up the mail in disgust. "Wearer of Black and Silver."

"Come on now, it can't be that bad," Pippin said with a weak smile in his black and silver. "Maybe they'll let us wear our cloaks. And your scarf."

"Don't think so, Pip," I sighed, pulling on the mail and the dress. I untied the scarf from my neck and lovingly set it next to my traveling dress and cloak, but I left the necklace around my neck. The green beads seemed to glow in such a colorless and green-less place. Suddenly, having so much green with me did not seem so ridiculous, for there was a definite lack.

"I don't like this mail," Pippin said stuffily after a few moments. "It pinches and it's heavy."

Somehow, Pippin and I, walking to the citadel in our new outfits, began to talk about all we'd been through.

"I think I live in the past more than present day, Pip," I said apologetically. "I can't help it, though. Anything I do I always look back on all I've done before…"

Pippin stopped walking. His eyes were full of sadness. "I miss the Shire," he sniffed. "And I just want to go home…with Sam and Frodo and Merry and you, and pretend none of this ever happened…" He hung his head and sank onto a white stone bench. "I'll wait for you." After a few moments, as I walked slowly towards the door that Denethor had told me to go through, I heard Pippin behind me. "What were you thinking, Peregrin Took? What service can a hobbit offer such a great lord of men?"

I pushed open the door to reveal a small room not unlike the rest of the city, except it was empty save a chair, a mirror, and a small window. A soldier twice the size of me stood holding a sword. I could feel my palms sweat as I stared up at his face. He looked kind.

"Sit, if you please," he said, gesturing towards a chair prepared for me.

I did so, hesitantly. Whatever was about to happen to me did not seem like it was going to be pleasant or quick. What, in his madness, did Denethor want of me?

The soldier took a thick lock of my curly hair in his hand, and pushed the back of my head gently, so that I was bowing towards the floor. The room seemed to spin. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the flicker of the blade coming closer…

Thick tresses of my hair fell to the floor, and the soldier evened the cut with a swipe of the sword. I lifted the palm of my hand, in both relief at not being beheaded and anger towards having my hair shorn off. It was practically shorter than a boy's! I looked up to see a mirror and startled myself, glaring at my reflection. The soldier continued his work until two-thirds of my hair lay on the floor. Wordlessly he swept it up and tossed it away. And I was left with cropped hair somewhere between my shoulders and earlobes, all one length, looking ridiculous with curls left in it. I turned on my heel, hatred seething for Denethor, and pushed the door open.

Pippin and Faramir stood facing each other, Pippin speaking. He did not see me and so I shut the door quietly.

"I think you have strength of a different kind," Pippin said softly. "And one day, your father will see it." Pippin stood a little taller as Faramir gave him a look full of emotion.

I took a step forward and Pippin's eyes widened but he didn't make a sound. He looked just as miserable to see me as I had. "This was without my consent," I protested. It was all I could think of to say.

"Perhaps," Faramir said, whether it was in response to me or to Pippin's speech, I did not know. "Follow me, now. They're ready for you."

Faramir followed behind us as we plodded the stone hall and approached Denethor's throne. Pippin spoke the oath for both of us as Denethor watched with distaste.

"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor," he began slowly, eyes cast down, while we knelt in front of the throne. "In peace or war, in living or dying, from..." He stumbled on the words and he looked up, his voice trembling. "…from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or…death…take me."

Poor Pippin looked like he was about to cry as Denethor stood up and spoke. "And I shall not forget it," he said cheerfully, looking down at us. We cringed. "Nor fail to reward that which is given…"

He held out his ring to our faces and waited. Reluctantly, I touched my lips to it, and Pippin the same, avoiding eye contact with everything except the floor. Denethor took his face in his hand and lifted it so that he could see his eyes. I didn't take my eyes off Pippin. Eventually, he slid his hand slowly over to touch mine, and squeezed it softly.

Denethor looked at me and then away again, a flicker of disgust in his eyes from seeing my new hair-cut. I felt my face fill with shame.

"Fealty with love, valor with honor," Denethor said to us, and then looked to Faramir. "…disloyalty with vengeance."

Faramir's face hardened.

With a last look at his son, Denethor left us to sit and eat at his table, swishing his long robes as he went, and Pippin sighed with relief.

"I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses, defenses that your brother long held intact," Denethor said bitterly to Faramir as he plucked food from the different plates on the table.

"What would you have me do?" Faramir retorted.

"I will not yield the river and Pelennor unfought. Osgiliath must be retaken!" Denethor snapped back.

"My lord, Osgiliath is overrun!"

The stone under my knees was growing rather uncomfortable. I noticed Pippin had already stood up and I hurried to do the same. I wanted to scream from humiliation, though Denethor didn't notice. Could I do nothing right?

"Much must be risked in war. Is there a captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?"

"This is too unfair," I whispered to Pippin. "They barely escaped with half their men. A suicide mission is what it would be, to return. None would survive."

Pippin nodded gently and mouthed "Shh."

Faramir, still staring numbly at his father, got straight to the point. "You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived."

Denethor took a sip from his cup. "Yes," He said quietly. "I wish that."

At first, Faramir did not say anything, but he controlled his emotion and said calmly, "Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will do what I can in his stead."

He began to walk out of the citadel, his head high but hung, until he turned back. His eyes were red and tears glittered. "If I should return, think better of me father," he said helplessly.

Denethor did not turn his head, but raised his eyes. "That should depend on the manner of your return," he said, and continued eating.

After Faramir departed, Pippin and I stood at attention next to Denethor's table, burning in anger.

"Can you sing, Master hobbit?" He asked Pippin.

I glared at Denethor when he turned away. He could not ask _me_ to sing. I would have gladly, for Pippin did not wish to share his songs with the unemotional types. In fact, Denethor hardly addressed me at all, except to wait on him like a simple house maid. He and Boromir were not so unalike. I touched my hair tenderly and stared dejectedly at the mirror. It didn't look so terrible anymore, but I couldn't help but wonder if Denethor was as disgusted with it as I was.

"Well…yes…" Pippin said uncomfortably. "At least, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs for great halls or…" Pippin watched Denethor with a death stare. "Evil times."

"And why should your songs be unfit for my halls?" Denethor asked, returning the glare. "Come, sing me a song."

Denethor's word was law, so Pippin was forced to obey, though he flinched and shifted his weight around some. As Denethor took noisy bites from his meal, Pippin opened his mouth reluctantly, looking at me. I nodded, and, taking a breath, he began his song.

"_Home is behind,"_ he sang. _"The world ahead…"_ His voice shook a bit at the beginning, and he stumbled on the words as he tried to make it beautiful.

I shut my eyes and heard a horse's whinny down below us, where Faramir's soldiers were riding back to Osgiliath.

"_And there are many paths to tread…" _Hoof beats echoed and metal swords were drawn as the soldiers rode forth._ "Through shadow, to the edge of night, until the stars are all alight…" _

Suddenly a vision of that night of Weathertop forced its way into my mind. I let Pippin sing in my head, lying next to me, under the stars, so I wouldn't have to pretend that I was home anymore. I was living in a memory, I knew, but living in the present was too hard to do. I couldn't stop thinking of all there was that happened before us.

"_Mist and Shadow, cloud and shade…all shall fade,"_ he sang, more confident now. _"All…shall…"_ The sound of orc arrows being released jolted us as Pippin's last note rang around the citadel. _"…Fade…"_

Pippin looked at Denethor, who was still silently eating, and then at me. He shook his head and, looking down, began to cry.

Denethor Reaches the Boiling Point of Insanity and Ignores the Siege of the City Stupidly

I allowed the tears to fall down my own cheeks, holding my head high, as outside, the orc army was chanting loudly and the shouts of men and horses could be heard.

"Open the gate, quick!" Someone shouted.

Denethor rushed down to the courtyard of the citadel with Pippin and I hot on his tail, stumbling down the stairs to see who had lived through the battle.

Pippin stopped and stared, openmouthed. Faramir's horse walked into the gate, dragging Faramir behind him, with arrows protruding from his armor.

"No," I whispered. "It cannot be…"

Several soldiers placed Faramir's body on a pallet and carried it to the White Tree. Denethor ran to the soldiers.

"Faramir!" He said. "Say not that he has fallen!"

Pippin and I knelt by Faramir's body. I put my head to his chest. "He is not dead!" I told Pippin, whose eyes lit with hope immediately. He too listened for the breaths and living heart, desperately looking up to Denethor.

"My sons are spent!" Denethor howled, his eyes wild. "My line has ended!"

"He's alive!" Pippin and I shouted simultaneously, exchanging looks.

"The House of the Stewards has failed!" Denethor seemed not to hear us, approaching the wall of the courtyard.

"He needs medicine, my lord!" Pippin cried, stroking Faramir's forehead with his hand.

Denethor instead walked to the wall of the citadel, down at the orc army beneath him. He quivered as I approached.

"My lord!" I said, not daring to touch him to grasp his attention.

"Rohan has deserted us!" He moaned.

I couldn't help but think, _Rohan has no reason to help those who did not come to their aid…_

A catapult was shot at the first level. Screams rang around the walls as they crumbled and crashed around them.

"My lord!" I cried. "Please listen to me!" I was very aware of the siege on Minas Tirith, even if he was not. Something had to be done before the city fell to pieces around us. Already I could feel hear the screams and feel the shuddering as the stone walls were destroyed. "My Lord!" I yelled again.

"Théoden has betrayed me!" Denethor screamed. As boulders fell, he added, "Flee! Flee for your lives!"

Gandalf rushed behind him and delivered a smack to his head, once, twice, three times. "Prepare for battle!" He ordered.

I retreated to Pippin and Faramir as Gandalf rode down to where they needed him—to fight against the orcs.

"We must do something!" I shrieked.

"Down to the lower level!" The citadel guards told us. "Double up and come, quick!"

We followed them in a daze, not bothering to take out our swords.

_14 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_24 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

As we ran down levels, the siege continued, orcs catapulting huge chunks of stone into the city. Around Pippin and me, the walls collapsed, and we cried aloud as we were jostled and thrust aside, falling to the ground. In panic I shouted Pippin's name, reaching for his hand. The big people around us screamed and held their children as the city crumbled in front of their eyes. Fire rained from above and Pippin let out a devastating scream as the Nazghûl flew over on their winged beasts, screeching aloud and plucking soldiers from their posts, only to drop them hundreds of feet into the wreckage below. The dead and wounded littered the street which we stumbled through. Pippin yelled and pulled me down as a stone came crashing down near our heads and the building near which we were hiding roared with flames. We had to find Gandalf…

An orc speared a Gondorian, another struck down a woman, and yet another shot arrows as we ran past, down an empty staircase to where, at last, in the chaos we could hear Gandalf. We trudged along, trying to ignore the orcs and dead around us, stopping where Gandalf was barking orders.

"Fight them back!" He cried. "FIGHT THEM BACK!" Then he caught sight of us, smacking an orc with his staff and stabbing it with his sword.

"Peregrin Took!" He shouted at us angrily. "Go back to the citadel!"

_Why not me? _I wanted to scream._ Have you forgotten me? Acknowledge me, Gandalf!_

"They called us out to fight," Pippin said softly.

A siege tower arrived at the wall and orcs streamed out. Gandalf fought them as we watched. One had spotted Pippin; it charged at him while Pippin stood, motionless, paralyzed with fear. Gandalf easily struck it down and he finally turned back to us. "This is no place for a hobbit!"

Gandalf began battling more orcs as Pippin and I watched, tense and unable to help. One came up behind him, about to strike, and, with a battle cry, Pippin and I pulled our swords out of their sheaths, both stabbing it in the back at the same moment. We were able to exchange a smile before withdrawing our swords.

"Guards of the citadel, indeed!" Gandalf said proudly. "Now back; up the hill, quickly! Adamanta…" His voice grew old. "We need you here."

Pippin ran, and I feared for him-- hearing bits of cries and the squeals of the Ringwraiths—he stopped for an instant as he saw a mother reaching out for him, clutching her three young children. How powerful he looked in armor and holding a sword, even though he and I were half the size of normal soldiers. A little boy was eyeing him with envy as his mother wept. Pippin put his hand on the boy's head and kissed his brow before fleeing to the citadel parapet.

Then Gandalf touched my arm and I remembered what I was to do. From a dead man's hand he gave me the flag of Gondor, a pennant with the White Tree. "Hold this, be brave, and fight," he explained. "Do what you must and go where you must. But do not let it fall!"

I nodded and suddenly was caught up in a great battle. Orcs and trolls rushed through me and my arms were rushing through them. Fearful men backed away, watching me fight, and I watched them die. Leaving Gandalf's side I held up the flag and stopped as a troll swung a club over my head. It was like in Moria, except Gondor's men were scared witless. And, from nowhere, something told me I knew I had to lead them. And I did as Gandalf had said—I raised the flag, turning down a street and shouting, swinging my black-bloodied sword. "Come to me, Come to me!" In a small courtyard perhaps twenty-five men were sheltered, waiting for the city to be breached.

"We do not wait!" I cried. "We do not cower and count the hours till death!" They turned in confusion to see me, a tiny Halfling, waving their flag around and directing them. But it didn't matter, for I had their attention. "Men of Minas Tirith!" I began. "This city belongs to you. It belongs to your heathen-kings, and your sires and mothers and children. And you have lived and loved this city!" I stared all of them down. I could hear the orcs coming, and I was ready to go out and meet them. "Why now, in one day, will you let it fall to filth? Why are you willing to give it away? You act as cowards do! You are not cowards! They are cowards! Take back the city, make it yours!" A few men shifted. It wasn't the most inspiring speech, I knew. I took words and thought. "MAKE SAFE THIS CITY!" Several confused men and I cheered, and together charged the orcs.


	16. Chapter 16

The Rohirrim Return to Save the Day and Denethor Falls Into a Burning Ring of Fire

_After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure..._

--Albus Dumbledore

_15 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_25 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

"Take them down!" Gandalf was shouting. "Fight! Fight to the last man. Fight for your lives!"

"Gandalf! Gandalf!" Pippin was sprinting faster than I had ever seen and I picked up my own garb and ran to him. "Denethor has lost his mind!" He was screaming desperately. "He's burning Faramir alive!"

"Up, quickly!" Gandalf cried, horrified, lifting us onto Shadowfax and taking off.

As we rounded a corner, Shadowfax reared with the sight of the Witch-King swooping on its foul beast.

"Go back to the abyss!" Gandalf shouted at it. "Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your master!"

The Witch King laughed. "Do you not know death when you see it, old man?" His voice was enough to make Pippin and I cry out in fear. "This is my hour," he continued in a hiss. The Witch-King lifted his sword and it burst into flame. Shadowfax continued to prance as Gandalf lifted his staff, which shattered as we were thrown from Shadowfax. The stallion snorted and whinnied in fear.

"Gandalf!" Pippin cried. He did not move.

Pippin screwed up his face and rushed towards the Witch-King with his sword in hand.

"No, Pippin!" I scrambled to my feet and the fell beast roared at us. Pippin stopped in his tracks, staring at it.

"You have failed," the Witch-King said. "The world of men will fall."

A melodious chorus of horns sounded from the fields far below, distracting the Witch-King. Gandalf looked up, hope in his eyes, and the Witch-King flew off. The sun was rising.

"The Rohirrim!" I yelled. "They've come!" Their horns continued to blow and Gandalf lifted us back onto Shadowfax's back.

"Come!" He cried. "We must save Faramir!"

For the sixth time that day, we journeyed back up to the citadel. Shadowfax was able to break open the doors with his hooves. We trotted in. Denethor stood atop the pyre, oil over himself and Faramir and the pyre. Soldiers with torches stood around them.

"Stay this madness!" Gandalf boomed.

The soldiers fell back, but Denethor seized a torch from one of them. "You may triumph in the field of battle for a day, but against the power that has risen in the east, there is no victory." With a smirk he dropped the torch onto the wood, sending it aflame.

Gandalf forced a spear from one of the guards and knocked Denethor off the pyre. Pippin knew what his duty was as he leapt bravely onto the burning wood, pushing Faramir with all his might. They rolled to the floor and I jumped down too, patting out the flames on Faramir's cloak. Denethor in a rage took Pippin by the throat and threw me aside. I felt hot flames on the side of my face and rolled away from them, trying to get to my feet in a daze while Pippin cried, being held over the flames by Denethor. I lunged for his robes.

"Get off him!" I screamed, while Pippin's cries wrenched my heart. "Get off him!"

"You will not take my son from me!" He yelled, his eyes rolling. His clothes were already aflame, and Shadowfax reared at the aid of Gandalf. Surprised, Denethor dropped Pippin to the ground as the flailing hooves knocked him into the fire.

Faramir opened his eyes at Denethor's gasp.

"Faramir," his father whimpered, and then his eyes bulged as the flames consumed him. Crying out, he leapt from the pyre and ran all the way down the citadel courtyard and off its peak, falling into the armies below.

"So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion," Gandalf said, nodding to us. We followed him back to the battle. I held my cheek. It wasn't a bad burn, but it stung and I was sure it was red and raw.

Pippin held a hand out to me and I hid my face in shame, but took it.

It was scarcely an hour later that we crouched on a porch on the second level of the city while soldiers waited for a troll to breach the gate. Tears were streaming down both our faces as we waited. Pippin crept closer, holding his sword in his lap. He cried quietly, not bothering to wipe his cheeks. I linked my arm in his and he held my hand tightly, trembling with fear.

"I didn't think it would end this way," Pippin said quietly, looking up at Gandalf.

Gandalf, holding his staff, sitting above us, looked down at him in surprise. "End? No, the journey doesn't end here, Peregrin. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it…"

"What?" I asked. "Gandalf? See what?"

"White shores…" He continued. "And beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise."

Pippin's voice cracked as he spoke, continuing to cry, but he smiled in reassurance. "Well," he said. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"No," Gandalf said. "No it does not."

The gate continued to groan, nearly breached by the efforts of the trolls and orcs. Gandalf nodded to us, and Pippin laid his head on my shoulder, gripped his sword and intertwined his fingers in mine, shutting his eyes. "Whatever happens," he whispered. "Promise you won't leave me."

"I won't," I whispered back, as fresh tears began to fall.

The Witch-King is Slain and We are Reunited With Some Dear Old Friends

_16 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_26 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

The battle was over quickly, as the city was overtaken by green ghosts who killed but could not be killed, so thus our victory was swift. Gandalf took Pippin and I out to Pelennor Fields to walk among the quiet battlefield. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas were there also, and gave us proud smiles and pats on the head before releasing the dead from whatever curse they were struck with. Gandalf, upon Aragorn's deed, bowed. Pippin and I continued to walk before stopping dead in our tracks.

"Is that what I think it is?" I breathed. I reached down and plucked a green leaf brooch and an elven cloak from the bloody grass.

"No…" Pippin wailed. "I've lost so much! Merry!" He called his cousin's name and held the brooch to his heart.

We jerked to life as Éomer, nearby us, ran through the crowds of bodies, falling to his knees and screaming. We followed his tracks to where Éowyn lay lifeless. He picked her up and held her, crying.

Aragorn gave us a heartfelt look as he followed Éomer to the Houses of Healing. With no where else to go, Pippin and I went as well. There, Aragorn tended to Éowyn's broken and badly poisoned arm. Sadly, we looked on. As Aragorn turned to leave, I bent next to Éowyn and sang.

"_With a sigh, you turn away, with a deepening heart, no more words to say. You will find that the world has changed forever…_" I paused to take a breath and look at Pippin._ "And the trees are now turning from green to gold. And the sun is now fading…I wish I could hold you closer…"_

Aragorn stopped and turned around to look at me, perplexed and hurt as I finished the song.

Stricken by the fear of battle and the knowledge that many of our friends may lie dead, Pippin clutched my arm and helped me to my feet. "I want to find him," he said.

The little green leaf grew warm as he held it tightly in his hand and led me back out to Pelennor Fields.

Night had fallen but it did not stop his determined soul to find his friend. "Merry?" He called to the empty field. "Merry?"

"There!" I cried, and ran to his side. Next to a fallen Oliphaunt, underneath a dead orc, lay Merry, deathly pale and bleeding. His old scar from the Uruk-kai was visible above his eye.

"We're here, Merry!" I cried and my words caught in my throat as I rolled the dead off him. He blinked and smiled as Pippin joined my side.

"Merry!" he sobbed, holding Merry's head in his hand. "It's me! It's Pippin!"

"I knew you'd find me," he said weakly with a smile.

"Yes," I said.

"Are you going to leave me?" He asked.

"No Merry," Pippin said between happy tears. "We're going to look after you." He pulled a cloak from the ground over him and lay beside him. I bent over his forehead and kissed him gently.

"The battle is over," I whispered. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."

Merry was taken also to the Houses of Healing, and Pippin begged me to sing the song "…about the trees turning and the world changing. It's pretty, and Merry will like it."

We stayed by his bedside as he regained his strength and the rest of the once-Fellowship debated about what to do to help Frodo.

The decision was made that we should create a diversion to empty Sauron's lands and stage a battle at Mordor's north; The Black Gate.

_18 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_28 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Following a few mornings, Pippin and I dressed for battle in our black and silver uniforms, our Lórien cloaks, and while Pippin bowed his head I put his helmet on him, and he did the same for me.

"Are you ready?" I asked quietly as we walked from the citadel once more.

"No," Pippin said, with a forced laugh, patting his sword.

Gandalf was there to meet us with Shadowfax and Aragorn sat upon his noble horse Brego. Merry joined Éomer and the Rohirrim, who blew their horns in assembly.

"Where is Théoden?" I asked Aragorn, rushing to him. "Where is their noble king?"

Aragorn said nothing but looked to the windows of the Houses of Healing, and my eyes followed. Standing in the window was Éowyn with Faramir, who waved to us down below.

"He is dead," Aragorn said, spurring his horse into a walk.

"Wait!" I cried, running to keep up. "I don't want to be in a battle, Aragorn; I don't want to die in this place! We cannot possibly survive against millions of orcs, and Mordor itself is a plain of death!"

"It is not for us, but to give Frodo a chance," Aragorn replied bitterly. "We must give him eligibility to cross these 'plains of death' as you say. He must destroy the ring, and as long as we have breath in our bodies we must do what we can to aid him! He cannot do this alone!"

I blinked, casting my eyes down, and turned away. Pippin was waiting for me on Shadowfax in front of Gandalf, and he stretched his hand out to me. I took it and leapt aboard the tall horse.

"I cannot imagine what life will be back in the Shire," Pippin said. "After this... You promise to write us a book, Mandy?"

"I promised it and I will keep my word," I said. "We are Knights of Gondor, Pippin, and we keep our promises. I just want to get it over with and go home…"

Aragorn trotted out and in a line the men and we followed. The ride to the Black Gate began.

Pippin and I talked most of the way anyways, to distract from the potential danger we were heading into. I had thought at first it would be a short ride's way, but instead the armies had to ride north, through Ithilien. Shadowfax had a smooth gait, thank goodness, though my head grew heavy, in my thick mail and velvet armor, and the heat thickened in a short time. I felt my chin nod and I jerked awake, fearful of striking Pippin in the face with the spike atop my helm. Aragorn leading us, Shadowfax paced behind, and the armies of Gondor and Rohan trailed like a river in our wake through the dusty land. The ominous black mountains approached us on the flank and above them, black clouds smoldered. We took to the road all day, till I felt Pippin's chin in my shoulder and I soon was lulled by the coming dark and even footfalls of the great horse. I too, fell asleep, too still to realize Gandalf was plucking us hobbits up from his steed and down onto a pallet in a tent where Aragorn had laid camp.

"Silence!" Gandalf warned when we arrived.

The Black Gate was a huge spiky gate set into the Ash Mountains on the Northern border of Mordor.

There was a strange, eerie silence, as our massive army stood behind us and waited. Nothing happened.

"Where are they?" Pippin whispered.


	17. Chapter 17

The Battle at the Black Gate Begins, and the Eagles Come at the End of All Things

_25 March, 3019, of the Third Age_

_3 Astron 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

In silence, Aragorn cantered forward towards the gate, bearing the Gondorian banner. Gandalf followed with us, Éomer with Merry, and Legolas with Gimli. We stood before the gates in silence. Finally, Aragorn spoke in a noble voice.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!"

Slowly, as though to taunt us, the gates opened, and a rather ugly orc known only as the Mouth of Sauron came out to greet us on his horse. Aragorn gave him a look of utter disgust as he spoke. The Mouth's teeth were long and rotten, and when he caught my eye he gave me a sneer that made me want to retch.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome. Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?" His voice was slimy and cruel and I watched him in distaste. I opened my mouth to spit on him, but Gandalf, however, was calm, and covered my mouth with his hand.

"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this: The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

"Aha…Old Greybeard. I have a token I was bidden to show thee." He pulled from behind him, a Mithril shirt, one that seemed strangely familiar, and tossed it to Gandalf.

"Frodo!" Pippin cried.

"No!" I heard Merry wail.

"Silence!" Gandalf ordered, and they were silent.

Pippin looked from him to me, and he shook with tears.

"So they have him, then," I said quietly, crying. "They have had him." I looked up with a burning hatred for the Mouth. He was grinning at us.

"The Halfling was dear to thee, I see," he said in mocking tone, seeing the pain in all our faces. "Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host." He spoke softer and with more pleasure in his words. "Who would've thought one so small could endure so much pain?"

Gandalf passed the shirt to Pippin, who held it and sobbed. I looked down at my hands and grieved for my dear friend.

"And he did, Gandalf, he did."

Aragorn walked Brego forward determinedly. The Mouth grimaced at him, showing his ugly teeth.

"And who is this? Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a king than a broken elvish blade…"

Aragorn let out a cry and swiftly lopped off the Mouth's head. "I do not believe it," he told us. "I will not."

The gates creaked again and opened wider. We galloped back to our army, and Pippin at last let the shirt down.

"I have hope," he told me. "There is still hope that they are alive."

"We would know if they had failed. The ring would belong to Sauron and he would be back in true form," I said, in sudden knowledge. "And faithful Sam is with him. He would not let his master give in so easily…"

The sound of tens of thousands of feet marching filled the air. In fear, Pippin and I looked up. A massive orc army, larger and far greater than our own, approached. Pippin somehow found my hand again. Aragorn rode before us, telling us not to be afraid. He raised his sword and cried to us aloud.

"Hold your ground! Hold your ground! Sons of Gondor, and of Rohan! My brothers; I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me!"

I closed my eyes and held Pippin closer.

"A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down. But it is not this day! _This day we fight!"_

Aragorn paused as he cantered back and forth, letting the expressions on all our faces bore their way into his mind and memory.

"By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you _stand! MEN OF THE WEST!_"

Aragorn raised his sword and his horse reared. Gandalf leapt from Shadowfax and we did too, following the others' lead and drawing our swords. The orc army had us nearly completely encircled. I breathed quickly, the hair prickling on the back of my neck. I looked up to see the Eye of Sauron watching us, interested, and behind it, Mount Doom. Frodo is there, I thought, and my fear vanished. I could almost see two tiny figures making their way up the mountain. I must be imagining things, I thought, and shook my head.

"Come on Pippin," I whispered. "For the Shire…For all that is good and green in this world, for all that we have set out to save. We must fight for what we want to keep."

"Come on Pippin," I whispered. "For the Shire…For all that is good and green in this world, for all that we have set out to save. We must fight for what we want to keep."

"I am ready, Aranel i Pheriannath," he replied with a small smile.

Hope flickered in our eyes, reflected in the green tones like a mirror. I looked at him with admiration, for the young boy quite grown up from the one who had knocked the skeleton in Moria and stolen Maggot's crops.

Aragorn looked up at the Eye, now, as we had before.

"Aragorn…Elessar," it murmured.

Aragorn smiled, turning slowly back to us. "For Frodo," he said simply, and charged the army of Mordor.

"Frodo!" I cried and Pippin did too, and Merry followed us as we sprinted after Aragorn, screaming and yelling and waving our swords with all the strength in the world. The rest of the army, surprised at our courage, made haste to follow, shouting their cries, and the battle of our time began.

I killed countless orcs in minutes, using the skills I'd gained from the battles we'd fought along the way. Boromir's teaching put to good use and I avoided death easily, praising Frodo and Boromir's names. I missed them both.

Trolls entered the battle, swinging at Aragorn, but we'd fought them before as well.

"Too easy," I smirked. I stabbed another orc with Pippin beside me, always.

"Look!" He said suddenly, pointing at the tower.

I cut an orc's head and leapt away from another. Looking up, I saw the Eye of Sauron tremble. Something was happening.

The Nazghûl swooped in on their fell beasts as Pippin looked to the skies.

"The eagles…The eagles are coming!" Pippin cried with joy, smiling even though his face was scratched and bleeding. The eagles took care of the Nazghûl for us, at least.

Dodging another orc, I struck swords with yet another and sank my blade into its stomach. Pippin jostled me and I fell to my knees, attempting to get up when a large orc growled at me and I struck at it. In my strange position, I missed its chest and thrust into its shoulder, trying to free my sword, and the orc, startled, swung its own sword, catching me in the side of my ribcage. It sank in deeply and I yelled out as the orc used its strength to tear the blade out of my side again. Once I had cut off its head, I was able to get to my feet and fight until I saw that the armies had stopped. Pippin pointed up again. The tower was falling, and Sauron's eye looked quite frightened. We watched with wonder as the Eye and its dark tower fell, exploded, and the armies were extinguished.

"Frodo!" We screamed with happiness. _"FRODO!" _ Raising my left arm, the arm I'd gotten slashed in Fangorn, I felt a rippling sting pierce my side, and as Pippin screamed with joy and Merry beside him, I cried out with pain and fell to my knees. Warm blood soaked my armor. No one could hear me crying until they'd stopped their celebrations.

I didn't understand why, until I looked up to see a slightly blurry Mount Doom suddenly blow apart, releasing oceans of liquid fire. My cries of pain worsened as Pippin fell beside me sobbing, and all looked up with shock.

"FRODO!" Pippin screamed. "_NO! WHY MUST HE DIE NOW, HIS TASK IS JUST ENDED!_"

I tried to imagine the last time I'd seen Frodo, at Amon Hen, but I could not remember his fair face. The pain in my side struck me once more and I cried, holding it and falling over, laying limply in the dank dust of Mordor. Pippin crept to me, tears streaming down his face as he lifted me into his arms.

Pippin's eyes welled up as he held me, sitting in the dust. I wished I could have lifted my cold hands and wiped his eyes, but I could not muster the strength.

"Pippin," I murmured, as my own tears returned. Pippin buried his face into my shoulder as he sobbed, and my head sank back; the world was falling out of focus. I felt suddenly weak, and my arms fell to my sides. All was going dark, lifeless, into shadow. The battle was over.

And this time, we had won.

A Fellowship Reunites and Aragorn Just Can't Wait to Be King of Gondor

_28 March 3019, of the Third Age_

_6 Astron 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a sunny, soft bed in the Houses of Healing at Minas Tirith. Everything was clothed in white, and I squinted in the brightness. In the time when I was hurt, I'd fallen out of time and could not remember anything, until I could hear Pippin's voice, humming his old song.

_The Black Gate. _I attempted to sit up; to be sure I was not in fact, dead. My side seared with pain, and I remembered having a blade gash me there. The pain was lessened, however, by the fact that a thick bandage was wrapped from my waist to my chest, and as I remembered the battle, the room came suddenly into focus, so that I could make out a small figure sitting at the foot of the bed.

"Pippin!" I said weakly, and he smiled broadly, but sadly, covering my hands with his own. His face was marred in places where, it seemed, cuts were working their way to heal.

Merry rushed into the room after a few moments, after Pippin and I had embraced and he had tearfully told me he thought I was dead.

"Come on," Merry said, after he'd given a warm hello. "There are some who'd like to see us triumphant warriors." He helped me out of bed and together the boys aided my walking. It hurt so much to walk, but I managed.

"I must be dreaming," I gasped, but it wasn't a dream. Frodo, lying in the room next door, blinked and smiled, sitting up in his bed when he saw us. Gandalf stood by the bed with him. "Frodo!" I cried, and ignoring the terrible stinging in my side I rushed to him and threw my arms around his neck. "FRODO!" I laughed as Pippin and Merry joined us, crying with joy, remembering a day back at Bag End when I'd just met them. "I can't believe you did it," I sniffed between smiles. "I can't believe it…"

"I can't believe you," Frodo laughed. "A knight of Gondor…and Pippin too! And Merry, a Rohirrim with all the Big Soldiers…" He paused and looked off at something in the distance. "It's funny…I can see the Shire, the Brandywine River… Bag End. Gandalf's fireworks, the lights in the Party Tree…" He smiled as Gimli walked in the door.

"Gimli!" We cried, as he clapped his hands in wonder at the sight of us.

Legolas came in next and I couldn't help but to run to Aragorn's arms when he entered. The fellowship was together again, save two.

Boromir, of course, was dead.

Sam was not and told us so with the shy look he gave us. Pippin, Merry and I hugged him next.

"Oh, Sam," I whispered as he kissed the top of my head. "I thought we'd never see you again."

"Of course you would," Sam smiled at Frodo. "Together till the end…why, we couldn't leave you out in the wilderness after you'd decided to come runnin' after us, right?"

I sighed, smiling. "Right."

Sam sat on the foot of the bed and I stared in wonder at all of us, laughing and being merry together like the old days. I looked up at Aragorn. "So Strider, where to next?" I pushed him playfully and he put his hand on the top of my head.

"My coronation," he said softly.

"Oh, Aragorn!" Pippin cried, jumping into the air and falling back on the bed. He sat up and shook his hair out of his eyes. "You'll be a king! The King of Gondor!"

He chuckled. "That's right. And you need to be dressed suitably, Peregrin."

"Mandy and I can wear our Guard uniforms," Pippin said, smiling. "Guards of the Citadel, and everyone shall know it…"

"I mean you should be dressed as _hobbits_, not as warriors," Aragorn said. "You're going home, Pippin."

Pippin looked from me to Aragorn. "Oh Strider!" Then he swallowed and corrected himself. "Sorry, never got out of that habit," he said sheepishly. "_Aragorn!_ We're going home! At last…" He hugged me again and ran from the room.

I retreated back to the bedside where Merry was updating Frodo and Sam on all that had happened after Amon Hen, when we had leapt to distract the Uruk-kai. I joined with them, showing the scars and scrapes and telling everything of our capture in great detail. Frodo and Sam made a wonderful audience, oohing and aahing where they should and nodding when something noble happened and gasping when someone was hurt. Merry kept poking me in the back to add something or change some word, but, in all, the story of how we uprooted Fangorn and destroyed Isengard was finally told.

"And you're writing this all down, right?" Sam said. "You're going to have to remember it all."

"Yes, I will," I smiled. "Pippin won't let me forget and neither will anyone else."

So I began to tell the story of when Merry, Pippin and I split off, and Frodo looked absolutely frightened at the thought of his youngest two friends holding a dangerous, burning ball of fire, but laughed when I told him how Pippin had 'accidentally' made us Guards of the Citadel. Just as quickly his smile faded to sadness as he learned of what we endured in the White City, between fighting and saving Faramir and serving Denethor and the Battle at the Black Gate…my tongue got the best of me, even when I wasn't in the best of health. It would make a marvelous story someday, I was sure.

"And you will be on call," Aragorn added with a wink, "Should I ever need knights. Knights are for life, Adamanta."

"Aye," I said, and rolled my eyes. Sam chuckled.

I was hesitant to leave, but Aragorn's coronation would be coming up and everyone seemed to think I needed rest. Though I protested, I knew they were right, and Pippin helped me walk back to my bed as I winced with each step. It sent shivers through my spine and pain rattling through my body. He tucked me in and let me get comfortable, wriggling next to me with his chin resting on his elbows. "I'll stay till you fall asleep," he offered, and sang to me, till I nodded off.

_1 May 3019, of the Third Age_

_10 Thrimidge 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Éowyn joined me in my room, dressed in a lovely yellow gown, and put my pack on my bed. It reminded me of what I had to do. I pulled out a white shift with puffed sleeves and a brown gown out of my pack, sighing as Éowyn brushed and braided my short hair back.

With a smile, Éowyn did up her hair and greeted Faramir with a blush when he knocked on the door. The sight of the two saddened me. Éowyn, who all her life wanted to be a warrior, and not a housewife, had become just that. She didn't seem to mind, but the thought troubled me.

To my surprise, Faramir asked Éowyn for permission to speak with me alone. I was taken aback—who was I to stand in his presence like an equal?

"Adamanta Bolo, Aranel I Pheriannath...you have proven yourself. You have done great things in the face of danger and have done a noble service for our city," he said, kneeling to my height. "I owe you and Peregrin my life."

I opened my mouth to argue but he held up his hand and stayed my tongue.

"I will miss you, my friend. In the short time we were together, Peregrin you and I learned a great deal about each other and our people have fallen in love with you. I wish you the very best, for your life. Have a safe journey, and have happiness for years to come. I fear this is our final parting in this life age. I will miss you, my friend."

I bit my lip, fighting tears, sitting on the edge of my bed, as Faramir from his side withdrew a staff of oaken. "It should help your walking," he murmured, fingering the Tree of Gondor which was emblazoned in the wood. Taking the staff, I laid in on my bed covers and stretched to embrace Faramir. I dearly hoped it wouldn't be the last time we met.

When I walked outside to the Citadel, it was already full of people, all Big People. I leaned on my staff and hobbled through the sea of people till I saw the hobbit boys standing behind a large fountain in the citadel courtyard.

"Well," I said. "I didn't realize I'd have to say so many good-byes."

Frodo nodded wordlessly, and Pippin bowed his head. We faced a long aisle leading to the stairs of the citadel, where Gandalf and Gimli, holding a silver winged crown, stood before Aragorn. The king-to-be knelt, his cloak of black and silver draped over the stairs.

Everyone was silent as Gandalf took the crown from its pillow and raised it high above Aragorn's head, then bringing it down to rest upon his brow. Aragorn stood, and turned to face the crowd. His face was unfamiliar in a way, since I could only seem to remember him as the ranger Strider. I fought back emotional pangs from memories of an age ago.

"Now come the days of the king," Gandalf declared nobly. "May they be blessed."

Aragorn walked to the top of the stairs and took a deep breath. I cheered, even before he began to speak.

"This day does not belong to one man, but to all," Aragorn said once we had quieted. "Let us together rebuild this world; that we may share in the days of peace."

We cheered again, loudly, as flower petals drifted down from the hall and Aragorn shut his eyes, his head bowed, beginning to sing a lovely song in elvish. My smile faded as his words of blessing and hope echoed around the citadel.

He began to walk down the aisle, nodding to all, who bowed before him. Aragorn placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Hannon le," he said. Legolas just smiled and looked beside him, stepping out of the way so Arwen could approach, holding a flowing banner. She lowered her head in the sight of the king and he, with gentle hands lifted her chin, looking deep into her eyes. Aragorn for an instant was still, then embracing and kissing her suddenly. She laughed as he lifted her and twirled her, and continued walking together.

As they approached us five, we bowed slowly together, but Aragorn waved his hand gently with a little smile. "My friends," he said. "You bow to no one." In a swift movement, he and Arwen together fell to their knees, leading the entire citadel courtyard down with them.

We looked upon the crowd in awe and astonishment as they bent in our honor…thousands upon thousands kneeling before _us_… the five hobbits…I could see Pippin's lip tremble as he smiled and Sam's eyes well up.

The crowd was silenced as we stood before them, realizing at last the noble deeds that we had done in the face of great evil; all to protect our world.

Once the homage was done, Frodo wiped his eyes and shook his head. "We've done it," he said. "Let's go home."


	18. Chapter 18

A Sort of Homecoming and Life is Back to Normal Once More…Sort of

_3 May 3019, of the Third Age_

_13 Thrimidge 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

After much celebration and hugging and crying, Aragorn gave us hobbits rich velvet cloaks and led five beautiful ponies out to us.

"We'll see each other again," he said, after I had unhappily hugged him a last time.

"Will we?" I asked anxiously. And I unclenched my jaw to call, "Strider?"

"Of course," Aragorn smiled.

I wasn't so sure. I clutched the reins of my pony and feigned squinting in the bright sunlight, trying to smile, when really I was holding back the tears that threatened to flow. Finally I had to turn away, excusing myself to put my nameless pony in the stables, so Aragorn wouldn't be able to see me crying.

We set out from Minas Tirith two days later, leading our ponies down the seven levels of the city as young children followed us, throwing petals, dancing, and singing of our heroic deeds. Their parents watched and bowed in homage when we passed. I couldn't help smiling when the children announced our titles to the world.

"Ernil I Pheriannath, Aranel I Pheriannath, Greatest of the Halflings," a girl sang as she shook a tambourine, and another girl followed clutching shoots of ferns and holding them above her head. Little boys skipped and little girls threw petals over our heads, laying flowers down to show the way ahead.

When we reached the gate, we set out at a full gallop on our ponies, waving to the crowd behind us and hoping to reach home before the week's end.

Of course it was nothing of the sort, though on ponies it was only a 3 month trek to cross the lands it took nearly a year to pass before. It was like we were eagles flying over the lands we'd trod; from Minas Tirith past Helm's Deep and Edoras to the Gap of Rohan and Isengard (saying a hasty hello to Treebeard, who had done wonders with the scarred black pits), and past the Misty Mountains over the plains of Eriador until, at last, we found ourselves looking upon sights we'd not seen for over thirteen months. Barliman Butterbur welcomed us home and sent with us some of his best ale from _The Pony, _and we promised to return to enjoy its comforts, during a time when we were neither being pursued by Ringwraiths nor setting out finally for home.

_30 October 3019, of the Third Age_

_9 Blotmath 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

My eyes narrowed as we rounded a few green hills, walking past Maggot's Farm and seeing the familiar sights of the Shire before us at last. Pippin choked as we passed a few bewildered hobbits, and I touched his arm gently, both of us dressed in our black and silver garb.

"Race you," I challenged, and we galloped off into the hills, Merry, Frodo and Sam laughing behind us.

As we approached Hobbiton, we stopped and let the others catch up so we could make an entrance together. Pippin and I rode first, nodding politely to Mr. Proudfoot and also many of our other comrades, as they stared in awe at our dress and swords and ponies. Things only acquired from worlds far away and given from peoples of different tongues and many long miles away.

"Protectors of the Shire," Merry said importantly, and we all burst out laughing.

When I saw Bag End, I leapt off my pony and sprinted to front stoop, looking out over the Shire and holding the reins. Pippin stood beside me, with an arm around my shoulders.

"We're back," he said quietly, beginning a song.

"_Home is behind the world ahead _

_And there are many paths to tread. _

_Through shadow, to the edge of night, until the stars are all alight…" _

Pippin's voice faded as I joined in, quietly, our tones complimenting each other.

"_Then world behind and home ahead, _

_We'll wander back to home and bed. _

_Fire and lamp and meat and bread _

_Away to bed, away to bed. _

_Mist and shadow, cloud and shade, all shall fade…all shall fade…". _

Pippin looked at me in surprise as I finished the song. "I've never heard you sing like that," he said.

I shrugged and looked out over the fields.

"You have a very pretty voice," he said matter-of-factly, and shyly turned away.

Later, after our ponies were tethered and our friends had stopped (politely) welcoming us back, we finally took our first steps back into Bag End. Everything was as it was thirteen months before; my scattered journals and pens, our unmade beds, our dishes washed but not yet put away, and Frodo's crumpled note, which I held to my heart, threw myself on the bed and sighed. My mixed emotions hurt my heart and my wound hurt my body.

Pippin sat beside me and handed me my journals as I unwound my scarf and held it in my hands. My Lórien cloak I hung on the door of the wardrobe, and my uniform from Minas Tirith I hung somewhere else where I could look at it, but not wear it. I was back in my comfortable dresses in the rich colors I liked wearing, back in my own bedroom, and sitting with Pippin in a very familiar hobbit hole.

"It's over," I breathed. "Somehow, I can't believe it."

_Merry, Pippin, and I skipped out the door, our packs on our shoulders, alive as we hustled through Maggot's crops and found Sam and Frodo, hiding from a Ringwraith, on the road to Bree where Strider was waiting and the Ringwraiths attacked a second time, stabbing Frodo at Weathertop…_

Pippin's voice jostled the thought. "I know," Pippin said quietly. He stared at the bedspread, tracing his fingers along the patterns as he began to talk of something very different. "I thought you'd died, there, at the Black Gate…" His mind must have been remembering the scene, for he was now looking off into the distance. "I took your helmet from your head and you were so pale. Your eyes were closed…Gandalf and the eagles flew from the Gate, looking for Frodo and Sam, and we took you back with us. You were hurt…bleeding; I wouldn't let you leave me. I took care of you myself, with help from the chambermaids. I bathed your face and cleaned your wound and bandaged you while you slept. You slept for three days…"

"I'm just happy to be home," I said, but didn't really mean it. I had jerked awake when I realized what Pippin had done for me, and blushed, thinking of myself unconscious, being cared for. I wrinkled my nose and cross-eyed at Pippin. "You gave me baths?" I said.

He blushed, and we giggled, then laughed. When the moment had passed, I sighed again, kicking my legs against the bed.

"It's hard to go back to an old life. We've been through a lot and learned a great many things." Pippin took my hand and looked at it. Then he picked up the book I'd begun a few moments before, and began reading.

"Just a few notes," I said, looking at the page with him.

_Order of Events: Shire…Bilbo's Party, My Birthday, Leaving Shire, Black Riders, Bree, Strider, Leaving Bree, Weathertop, To Rivendell, Rivendell, Council of Elrond, Fellowship Leaves, Going South, Caradhras, Moria, Gandalf is Lost, Lothlórien, Amon Hen, Boromir is Lost, Prisoners of Uruk-Hai, Treebeard/Fangorn, Scouring Isengard, Saruman is Defeated, The Palantir, Minas Tirith, In Service of Denethor, Massacre at Osgiliath, Battle of Pelennor Fields, Saving Faramir, The Witch-King is Defeated, Battle at Black Gate, I am Hurt, Aragorn's Coronation, Homeward Bound._

Beneath that I'd written in careful script the beginning to all our adventures.

_Home is Behind, The World Ahead_

_The Story of Adamanta Bolo, who travels on Many Adventures with Several Hobbits, a Ranger, an Elf, Men, and a Wizard_

_21 September 3018, of the Third Age..._

_30 Halimath 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

"_You have everything?" Rosie asked, folding dresses and stowing them in my pack. _

"_Yes," I said, kneeling on the floor and rolling a blanket. A few hair ribbons lay on the floor. I picked them up, along with my cloak. Rosie handed the pack over and I put it over my shoulders, pulling the straps uncomfortably. We looked at each other. _

_Behind my head I'd heard a knock and Sam's quiet hello to Mrs. Cotton. _

"_Adamanta," she called. _

_Feeling woozy, I groaned quietly. Rosie followed me down the hall to Sam, wordless. Rosie's siblings stared curiously as Sam took my arm and nodded once. _

"_I'll see you all soon," I said, but I knew that wouldn't be true. Everything was changing now. Still, Rosie waved till Sam and I had left her threshold and rounded a corner of the road. I didn't speak to him, just followed quietly, shuffling my feet. My father's death was still in my mind and the last two months had been the closest thing to a family I knew I'd ever have, ever again. At least there was Bilbo's party to look forward to, if the day ever came. The Hill climbed in front of my eyes, closer than ever, more beautiful than any hobbit hole I'd ever chanced to meet. I'd only seen it from afar. _

Pippin whistled. "That's a lot, Mandy," he said. "I didn't realize it, but that's a lot of things to have gone through. And over a year gone, too." He patted my shoulder comfortingly and, getting up, he left me and my books.

I fell asleep quickly, without even eating dinner first.

_1 November 3019, of the Third Age_

_10 Blotmath 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

The next morning I awoke feeling very lonely, crying quietly in my sleep. I'd wanted to come home, didn't I? More than anything I just wanted it to be over, and now that we were home we could not live a normal life. I shook my head and got out of my bed, leaving Frodo asleep. The others were sleeping too, so I sat out on Bag End's front stoop, feeling the comfortable warm air around me. I held my journal in my lap and rested against the wide green door, looking down on Hobbiton, for that was a wonderful thing about Bag End; you could see the entire Shire practically open up at your feet. So, instead of writing for once, I felt very taken with the scenery and decided to draw it all, just once, at the back of my journal.

Feeling much better and remembering not with sorrow but happiness that we'd completed the "task" as Frodo had put it a year ago, I turned away from the green hillside and stepped back inside the hobbit hole.

I started breakfast for the boys and sat alone, unsure of what to do with myself. There were no more battles, no more orcs, and no more reason to run to a new destination. All was quiet and calm. And, though I missed our adventures immensely, I had to admit I liked it better that way, for all I and the others had thought of during the entire trip was going home and all being back to normal.

Except, now that we were in fact home, it could never be.

It was cloudy outside and began to rain a bit, so I started a fire in Bag End's fireplace and sat in a chair, holding my books forlornly. Making myself a cup of tea, I stood next to the windows and looked outside for a while at everything and everyone going about its business. How absurd to have changed so much, I thought. The Shire stayed quiet, sleepily enjoying the laziness of the day. How ever could I have wanted to return?

Merry joined me, sitting silently in a chair.

"How are you?" He asked, yawning. "I slept but couldn't…fall asleep. I dreamed I was a Rider of Rohan again." Merry's eyes gleamed and he blushed as he remembered Éomer and Éowyn and the fair horses of Rohan. He sipped a cup of tea after I poured it and sighed, tracing his finger around the rim.

Vaguely I remembered seeing five cups and a teapot sitting in Bag End's kitchen after walking in the first time. I know what I must do now, I thought. With Merry beside me, I opened up my journal to where I left off and began to write. Somewhere in the middle of the chapter I wondered why Merry and Pippin had never gone home to see their families, but selfishly I was glad. I wanted them here, with Sam and Frodo and me, where they belonged.

Later that day, after Frodo had read my first chapter and agreed I was just as bad as Bilbo ("I AM and have always been, a writer," I argued with a strained smile) and he offered us the chance to go to the Green Dragon. I threw on the plainest dress I had, feeling pretty uncomfortable after wearing pants for so long. I averted my eyes when I entered the pub, even though it was a familiar place. The five of us received many strange looks from hobbits who didn't approve of our sudden departure, and gold-haired Rosie Cotton from behind the bar looked at me with question. I ignored her. I didn't feel like answering questions at the moment. Dark-haired Diamond stood with Rosie, next to my once-was best friends Lily and Poppy. They eyed me with stone-cold stares, at my scars and pale face and newly formed muscles. I couldn't help but realize how beautiful and dainty they were, like flowers in their fitted gowns, and how strong I'd become. My hands felt stiff and leathery as I clutched my skirt, staring back at them. They'd grown, but so had I.

Sam threw himself in a stool and the rest of us seated ourselves with him while Frodo went off to get five mugs of ale. I swallowed, waiting for the "none for you, you're too young" that never came. I had forgotten that I now was eligible to drink and hold down ale. I rested my head in my hand, my bandages beneath my dress threatened to cause me pain, as the dim light and the laughing and the drinking made my mind spin. Looking around, I saw the others felt the same way—staring off in the distance, no longer a part of the liveliness that the non-disappearing hobbits could partake in. The hobbits in the bar laughed and the women began their gossip, of events we'd never know of. Mr. Ted Sandyman brought in a pumpkin, startling more laughs and excitement.

_Whoo,_ I thought. Some part of me wished I could be Diamond or Estella, gossiping about the strange girl at the table, next to the dirty, scarred hobbits.

Frodo finally broke the awkward moment by raising his glass and toasting the Shire, something that we could all agree was worth remembering our adventures for.

Sam, drinking his ale, perked up when he succeeded in catching Rosie's eye. She smiled, wiping out a mug. It was evident how she was glad to see he was back. She waved to Sam and the rest of our table, attracting glances from other hobbits as well.

Sam looked utterly determined as he got to his feet and walked to her. Sweeping her off her feet he spun her and she laughed, until he stared her into the eyes and touched her cheek gently before kissing her softly and asking her to marry him! Now that was something I did not expect, not even when Rosie clasped her hands to her mouth and tears pricked her eyes, crying "Yes, oh Sam, yes!" And Sam held her to him and kissed her.

Pippin raised his eyebrows and Merry looked confused, but Frodo and I just laughed and laughed.


	19. Chapter 19

Where Sam Becomes Terribly Domestic and I Become a Writer, a Singer, and a Teacher

_25 November 3019, of the Third Age_

_5 Foreyule 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Having Rosie at Bag End became absolutely normal. It was somewhat comforting to have her, as a woman, around, especially one who knew how to cook and clean and wasn't lost for a year in the wilderness, fighting battles and lighting beacons and sitting in trees.

"How does this look?" She modeled her wedding dress in front of me, her gold hair pulled back. I raised an eyebrow from where I was hunched over my book, writing furiously about Bree.

"Oooh," I said with a smile. "That looks lovely on, Rosie." The dress didn't concern me. It was lacy and white; but Rosie really did look beautiful in it. It reminded me how un-beautiful I was; my straggly and hacked auburn hair not washed in thirteen months, and my clothes also not washed in… a longish time.

"I was thinking about colors for a dress for you," she said, with a glance at my plain white shirt, suspenders and pants (Frodo's, in fact) and unkempt hair.

"Green," I said instinctively, and she laughed.

"I imagined you saying that," she replied, shaking her head with laughter. "Now, let me go change before Sam sees and wrecks everything."

"I'm going outside," I said. No use telling Rosie why I was going.

"Aye, that's an idea, lass. You could use with a breath of fresh air after writing in this house for weeks. You don't need to write it all at once, and the…well, trip, could take a rather long time…"

"Your Sam would disagree," I teased, as she blushed, and I retreated to my room where I'd hidden my sword under my cloak. I changed into my Gondorian garb and tied the sword belt around my waist and placed my helmet on my head. Before anyone saw me, I charged outside into the fields and found a spot behind Bag End, on a hilltop where no one would find me.

Whatever made me want to practice sword fighting then, I didn't know for sure, but as I leapt in the air, twisting and twirling and chopping imaginary orcs, I realized that the rustling of the grass wasn't from the wind, it was from someone watching.

"Mandy!" It was Pippin, running gasping for breath. He too, was dressed as a soldier of Gondor.

Raising an eyebrow, I dashed my helmet to the ground, and Pippin shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I guess we think alike…" he said, and then cried aloud, running to hide behind me.

I chuckled. "What is it, Pip?" The grasses rustled again and I held my sword before me as out of the fields tumbled two, three, four, no, six little hobbit children. All were holding long sticks and stood in front of us, smiling.

"We want Pippin to teach us," they said.

"Teach…teach you…what?" I asked warily.

"To fight! We want to be warriors…brave and strong warriors like you," one little girl said determinedly.

Pippin stepped out from behind me. "Oh," he said. "Ok, well…let's see…"

"First," I said, planting a foot, "you have to learn how to be strong, and at the same time, gentle…"

The children looked confused. "How," a boy asked, "Can you be strong and gentle? Warriors aren't kind; they're tough! And powerful, and fearless…"

"Because…because…" I looked to Pippin for help and my sword arm fell.

"Because to be a soldier, you must have balance," Pippin said, stepping forward and displaying his sword, standing tall and quickly dodging as a young girl swung her stick at him. "Opposites," he said, after his escapade was done. "Hmmm…let's see if I can explain it for you…"

I smiled as Pippin explained further. "Just having one isn't enough. You need both to stay balanced. It's the same with fighting. You can't have day without night to darken it, and you can't have earth without a sky above the horizon, summer without winter to cool it, and moon without sun…"

Looking at me, he added another, without changing his expression. "Light without Shadow. Watch…" he cut quickly around me and then crept slowly, stood tall and proud, and then cringed, dodging a swing of my sword.

He picked a volunteer, a little boy, named Ponto. Pippin showed him how to swing the word to defend and block, as well as attack the opponent. Soon the other children were inspired and they leapt to their feet to learn.

"Let me show you…" I said, showing a few simple moves, as they parried my attacks. "That's good," I said to one little girl. "Now you try."

She did very well, and giggled as a little boy playfully battled her with his stick. Soon, the children were mingled with their imaginary battles, running about our feet and yelling their glorious battle cries.

Pippin and I exchanged looks, smiling at one another.

"Remember in Moria? And Mordor?" I asked. "Come on, Peregrin Took," I continued with a grin, tossing my sword from hand to hand in complicated moves. "Let's see if you can live up to your title of Knight and Guard of the Citadel."

"And you," Pippin said. "Adamanta, have stolen that title. May the best fighter win!" He and I began a series of dangerous attacks and parries, leaping in the air and using every bit of wit and strength to be able to keep the battle going. The children soon became our audience, completely mesmerized by our fighting abilities. I leapt atop a rock and jumped to the side as Pippin swiped at my feet, and I stabbed at air as he bent backwards and I twirled off to the other side. On and on we went, shouting congratulations to one another, until eventually we both lost balance, and exhausted, collapsed into the grass, giggling. Familiar pain shot through my side as my sword's blade brushed my wound.

I was somehow able to control my crying out enough to breathlessly call, "Well met," and tap swords with Pippin.

"Awww…" the kids said sadly, when Pippin announced it was time for them to go home.

"We'll fight again soon," he said, and they in high hopes rushed off with shouts and tapping of sticks. "Are you alright?" he asked in genuine worry as I groaned and fell to my knees, shaking my head. He knelt behind me and his hand found my wound, holding it gently. My head fell back onto his shoulder.

"I think I need another bandage for that," I said weakly. "I hadn't felt a thing for a week and now…it burns like a million of Mordor's fires."

Pippin nodded and aided me to my feet. "Come on, we'll fix you up. Rosie will, anyway."

Thinking of Rosie seeing me in this state made me groan again, and my stomach churned. For weeks Rosie tried to be a mother to me since I had none, and she didn't understand the thought of a hobbit, especially a girl, running off to parts unknown and fighting in battles and doing the sorts of things that regular hobbits just did not do. Like cutting my hair. She didn't believe me when I said I hadn't done it myself. Pippin supported my weight and helped me limp back to Bag End.

"Where…have… you…been?" Rosie asked, maintaining her good temper, although I could tell inside she was seething, and eyeing Pippin and I as though we had walked off a battlefield. Well, we had, sort of…

I decided it best not to explain that we were teaching the young hobbits how to swordfight and instead just limped inside. "Nothing," I said, attempting to brush by her, and trying to hold myself steady without revealing how much pain I was in. Rosie bent beside me swiftly, snatching my sword from its sheath.

"I'm beginning to lose patience with you. I've been kind, but this is too much. You call this nothing!"

I stuttered some excuse to her, but she dashed it to the floor, the metal hitting the tile with enough clatter to wake every orc from the dead. I wanted to find a way to lie, to escape, but I sank in my armchair instead, still holding my side and picking up my journal, but Rosie snatched it away from me. My hands, still clutching air, sank to my sides.

"You need to get your head out of the clouds and stop with this nonsense, this silly Guard of the City or noble soldier or whatever hero you're acting as. People are talking, Mandy, about you, about Pippin, about Merry and Sam and Frodo, but especially you."

I cast my eyes down. It wasn't my fault I was different than every other hobbit, just because fate had chosen Frodo to bear a Ring of Power. My wound gave a terrible throbbing pain, and I winced.

"You aren't off on an adventure anymore; you must get it stuck in your mind that it isn't normal to walk around like a knight, in pants…_pants! _Women do not wear pants, Mandy. They don't cut their hair to play fight with swords and roll in the dirt wrestling with boys. And they certainly know how to manage a house, doing the work that's needed, not sitting around, moping and writing books. You cannot bask in your memories or your dreams for much longer. Adamanta," her voice took on a gentler tone as she knelt to look me in the face. "Your life has changed much, this I know more than you might, for I have heard it from Sam. But you must settle down, leave the past where it lies, take on a life here in the Shire. You were once someone to be respected, a perfectly good hobbit, but that respect was lost when you ran off with Merry and Pippin to who-knows-where doing silly things that you oughtn't to. Living with men. Sleeping next to men. It isn't right. People think…it's just…indecent."

I was nearly crying with pain, forced to listen to Rosie scold me and bear my wound's pain silently. My spirit, something that I had learned to keep closed in as a child while I learned to be a normal young woman, was unlocked, and it burned now so fierce I couldn't imagine how to pen it back up. Settle down! How obnoxious.

"How I wish it could be that easy…Well that's fine," I said loudly, and began to limp away, but stopped. "_You _can all sleep sound tonight, without a damn care towards the hobbits who gave up everything to make it so!" I stalked to my room, and leaving a bewildered Pippin and Rosie behind.

Furiously I tore off my chain mail and uniform, kicking my helmet (and regretting it when my toes remained sore for weeks), and untying the bandages from my stomach. A deep, terrible slit opened up to greet me, something I had never seen before, and it made me want to retch. I'd never before known how terrible it really was. I cursed the orc who gave it to me, and cursed Pippin's clumsiness in battle.

After re-bandaging myself and getting dressed, I wrapped my Lórien cloak around my shoulders and looked at the brooch, the green and silver leaf that I left propped on the wardrobe. Pippin knocked softly and I ignored him as he sat next to me on the bed, putting his arm around my waist and resting his other hand on my side, gently holding my wound. His fingers made it tingle.

"She doesn't mean it," he said.

"How can she think she knows?" I asked tearfully. "It's not easy being who I am…who we are. We didn't belong there; it was too big for us, and now that we've been there, we're not accepted here, in the only place we can call home. How I wish…they could understand…it wasn't my choice…that there were no other women? That isn't the point…"

Pippin glanced towards the door as Rosie entered.

She sat on my other side. For a long time, she didn't say anything, and then there was a simple, "I heard what you told Pippin. I'm sorry I said what I did. You're right, I don't understand; I never can."

I stared at Rosie, tears streaming down my face, as she handed me my journal. I smiled, and she did too, and then we hugged. It was as I said, comforting to have another woman around. Her words still stung, but I supposed I could put them off for now.

"Come on, clean up," she said. "We're going to the Green Dragon tonight."

The Green Dragon was completely packed that night. I did not behave at all like the first night I went, completely depressed and refined, hidden from view, forgetting who I was in the dark corners I sat in with my friends. I took a bath, actually ran my fingers through my hair, and pranced the best I could about the place, in pants (not really to spite Rosie, but just because I needn't have forgotten myself) and holding a mug of ale.

Hobbits, especially Diamond, Estella, Lily and Poppy whispered but I didn't really care, twirling my scarf and leaping arm in arm with Pippin on tables, singing gloriously. When Frodo bent down and whispered to me, I glanced at him with utmost horror.

"Please, please, do it?" He asked with a smile.

I frowned, but stood up before the bar and cleared my throat. Well, Frodo wanted me to sing? I smiled a small smile, the words coming perfectly to my head. So I'd sing.

"_Rolling waves of grass and sky tumble as we pass them by, _

_The sun, it winks and shines ahead, showing us the paths we tread_

_Gray mist flies above the moors leading to white marble doors_

_Into a hall we bravely wander and look out over blazing yonder_

_Not a smile leaves our grim lips, as soft hoof beats sound with cracks of whips_

_My page bursts into his sad song, which hurts too much to sing along_

_Tears now as underneath our feet our soldiers have their fate to meet_

_Dreams of green Shire and beaten bar, a long way off from home we are."_

I finished the song and everyone in the pub roared for an encore, barmaids and men alike. Pippin, the only one to understand the song, clapped quietly, not really seeing anything but the memory. It was perfect, I thought, the perfect way to share my adventures aloud. Smiling broadly, I took a moment to think of a new song and began to sing it aloud.

My Story Lengthens, The Gamgee Family Lengthens, and Worry for Frodo Lengthens

"_Strider," Sam said, looking around. "We need Strider!" _

_Merry and Pippin reached Frodo's side with Strider in tow. He picked up a knife from the ground as Frodo continued to cry in agony. _

"_He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," Strider said grimly. "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine." He picked Frodo up like a child and we followed, still hearing wraith shrieks in the distance. "Hurry!" He said, urging us along._

"_We're six days from Rivendell!" Sam cried angrily to Strider. "He'll never make it!"_

_14 December 3019, of the Third Age_

_24 Foreyule 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

A few weeks after first singing in the Green Dragon, I put my pen down and looked around anxiously. Rosie was nowhere in sight, thank goodness; it meant I could continue to write. At any sign of her I would be forced to get on my feet and sprint for my room, throwing on a skirt before she saw I was wearing pants again...and not the dress and corset she'd given me. Though Rosie had sort of relaxed after the feud we'd had a few weeks earlier, the stress of preparing for the wedding began to get to her. She snapped constantly and lost patience whenever she caught me lounging around and "writing in those boy's clothes without the decency to wear a corset" and had one day brought me some new dresses. "I finished them just this evening," she said with a smile, and fitted a corset to me. I feigned a swoon and she smacked my arm jokingly, but really I did hate the thing. And the new dresses, brown, gold, and blue—just weren't the kind of thing I wanted. Dressing up and looking pretty didn't really matter anymore. Again, that fierce, stubborn spirit. So, she seeing as I wouldn't wear them, she seethed about me lazing around Bag End.

I did help her, I admit, with cooking and cleaning, but enough was enough and I needed to finish the section of my book about Weathertop before I forgot what I wanted to write, and I didn't want to waste precious space making notes. My dress was hemmed and ready for the wedding, made of a beautiful greenish material, and far too dainty for me, as I expected. Rosie was planning on doing my hair up in ribbons and lilies, which I didn't mind too much, save the fancies. It meant it wouldn't look funny down, cropped short. It was funny how completely astray the thirteen-month ordeal had led me. Rosie constantly made references of how I used to be—a typical hobbit lass; pretty, passive, soft-spoken, adventure-fearing, molded for a future that I didn't want. To find, marry, serve a husband and pop children till my dying day. It would have been mine, except I was saved.

She also wanted me to sing, especially since I was singing almost weekly at the Green Dragon for the hobbits there. The Gaffer and my companions loved to hear me sing, so that was arranged without me quite having a say. But, I was becoming famous for it, and "earning my respects" as Rosie had put it once. And I loved being loved, even though I wore pants. Even though the pretty, long, fancy-haired barmaids that were once friends of mine frowned on me. Rosie expected me to make friends with the girls my age, to have tea and bake and talk about fashions and who was marrying who. I'd forgotten that the girls I was once friends with at 12 were now off and marrying... then I tried not to laugh as I pictured Merry and Pippin in dresses talking to me about those sorts of things.

They were my friends, my "girls".

I ended the chapter with _All shall fade…all shall fade, _and stuffed my books under my pillows, and rushing outside to enjoy the Shire. I was surprised at how quickly I had overcome my sorrowful return. In only two months I felt completely restored, except when it was raining and I missed my dear friends who were so far from us.

Frodo was out, Sam was working in the garden, and Merry and Pippin had gone off wandering somewhere, so I sat on Bag End's front stair and basked in the glory of the Shire. I whistled a song, singing quietly. I had written quite a few songs in the past weeks, mostly about the journey we took and the sights we saw. Except that I remembered them now as though in a dream, not sure whether to believe I was really there.

Sitting there I began to sing, and watched the next few days pass the same way, feeling the familiar loneliness settle in as I glided about the Shire like in a trance, looking on my fellow comrades but feeling as though they couldn't see me. It was the feeling of sorrow I hadn't felt when I was happy to be home, but now I felt homesick for somewhere else. I stared out of windows and dreamed of lands far away from the green fields of the Shire…

"_I can see these past years closing in upon me_

_I can feel emotion finally settling in around me_

_Whatever type of life I chose to lead _

_I did not know it would end like this_

_Memory is pain and the rush is confusion_

_A sickness cannot begin to describe _

_The longing I feel to forget _

_I wish I could go back forever_

_I rush into life as life once was_

_I run through fields like they would have me_

_But deep inside black shadows still stay_

_And though I try they will not fly far from here_

_This place is a daze of love and loss_

_Once that was cannot be found again_

_Standing strong is not an option when you're lost_

_And no hope remains for you_

_My life wonders how fast time can run_

_And without me realizing what it wants_

_It sends pictures and memories back to me_

_Wide open spaces and lands distant from where I am_

_Two people cannot become only one_

_In the case that person may just be me_

_They see me who I was and who they want me to be_

_I see the me that I became and now I long to stay." _

_30 April 3020, of the Third Age_

_9 Thrimidge 1420, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Sam interrupted my daydreams for the fifth day in a row. His wedding was tomorrow, 1 May, and I was helping roll out dough for bread with him and Rosie and the younger ones were supposed to be helping, but I didn't know where they were. Frodo was writing in Bilbo's book, and he had gotten along a lot farther than I had, since his story was less complicated. In five days I was still in the Council of Elrond, and Frodo was entering Lothlórien.

"All right," Rosie said after the endless dough had been put in ovens. "I think we're finally done."

"Thank goodness!" Sam laughed and looked around at the kitchen longingly, picked up a long list and read it off. "Decorations…food…clothes…arrangements…invitations…all done. At last." He smiled, embraced Rosie, kissed her, and jogged to where Frodo was writing furiously at his desk. "Mr. Frodo?" He asked.

Frodo looked up for a second. "Yes, Sam?"

"We're going to the Green Dragon. Do you want to come?"

"No…no…" Frodo said. "I've got to finish this."

Sam bristled under his lips and walked out. As he went I heard parts of his sentence to Rosie, who followed hastily. "…Just isn't the same today nor any other day…"

"Rosie!" I called, and she turned around. "I'm going to stay and write!"

She called something, but whether she agreed to it or not I didn't care. I shut Bag End's door, settling by the window and letting my pen scratch over the paper. In a short hour I traveled through the heavy snows of Caradhras and down again, all the way to the Gates of Moria where Gandalf was having trouble opening them. Remembering it made me laugh, thinking of Gandalf's stubborn irritation and our boredom as we waited.

"_Don't disturb the water."_ Aragorn, Strider, whatever his name was, I missed him so much. I hoped and hoped that it wouldn't be long till I saw him again. Shutting the book, I wandered to Frodo, my hands in the pockets of my (his) pants, and stood next to him. He sat bent over his book, his dark hair in his eyes, his gruesome scars mostly healed but still visible, as were the scars of us all. I put my hand on his shoulder and read over it as he wrote.

"Hello," Frodo said, abandoning his book for a moment to look me in the eye. Seeing my face as I read, his bright smile faded. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"How I wish…" I said, and had to stop and think about just how to say what I wanted to say. "I just want to go back, Frodo, back to everything I knew. It just can never be the same, and I fear that we'll never be able to go home."

Frodo's face was sorrowful and he held me for an instant. The faraway look in his eyes was troubling as he spoke. "How do you pick up the pieces of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts go too deep."

_1 May 3020, of the Third Age_

_10 Thrimidge 1420, Shire-Reckoning Time... _

_The Anniversary of King Elessar's Coronation _

The next morning it was sunny again, and I awoke alone, sitting and writing before the wedding. Rosie could scold me for getting ink stains on my hands but I didn't care. The fear and feeling of loss had fled and for that day, I would be able to return to joy and feel glad for Sam and Rosie. In an hour, I was dressed and sitting in a chair as Rosie did my hair and chatted with other lasses, who looked on me like some kind of strange being. I was silent, feeling awkward, and made faces as Rosie let down a few dark curls around my face and worked yellow and white flowers in. It was painful work, and I told her so.

"Beauty costs pain," she said, and I cried aloud, clutching my head as she pulled at it. "Now if your hair wasn't so short!"

"That's not my doing," I growled.

I was the only lass in green. The other girls—Diamond, Lily, Estella, and Poppy, whispered among themselves, their long hair flowed in perfect ringlets. They were beautiful, I was not. I winced as Rosie pulled again and hid my dirty fingernails from her. It wasn't my fault she'd asked me to weed the garden the morning of the wedding. I eyed the other girls' flowing gowns, their yellows and pinks and blues, and dared them to so much as glance at me wrong. They did. Luckily, Rosie gave me a light push out of the chair, and I sighed with relief.

"There," she said, allowing me to stand at last and looking me up and down. "Lovely. Now go…"

Merry and Pippin met me outside of Bag End. "Finally," Merry laughed. "Sort of reminds me of Bilbo's party, doesn't it?"

My smile faded. There would be no more parties for Bilbo. "I guess so." I tried putting my hands in my pockets but—alas! I had none.

"You look nice, by the way," Merry added.

He took my arm and Pippin trotted behind, looking lost. We stood with the others as Rosie and Sam stood above on a platform with the children, and flower petals blew in the breeze. When Sam kissed Rosie, Pippin grimaced, Merry laughed, and I clapped, smiling broadly with Frodo. Sam looked down at us and winked, which meant I was supposed to come up and sing. I did so, singing a song I'd made up a week ago, just for Sam and Rosie. I couldn't help but smirk down at the other girls who couldn't sing like I could, and who talked about me amongst themselves because of my odd habits and adventures.

After the applause, I stepped back into the crowd and Rosie tossed her bouquet, which I reached for, though it sort of landed in Pippin's arms without him really meaning it to. I shoved my way between him and Diamond, who gave me a glare because she really wanted that bouquet. I didn't care. I was closer to it, anyway. I had to laugh for Pippin, though, who looked at it with a frightened sort of face, and then shook it off as he looked at me with a smile and shrugged.


	20. Chapter 20

Expecting the Unexpected and Living the Unlived

_4 September 3020, of the Third Age_

_12 Halimath 1420, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

I sang as I sewed patches onto a quilt for Rosie, since we'd recently heard from Sam that she was expecting a baby, most likely to be a boy. After Sam and Rosie had quietly separated themselves from us, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and I began to lead a quieter, more normal life. Merry often took Pippin and I on long walks deep into the Shire, ignoring the gaze of the disapproving hobbits, and often secretly led the hobbit-children in lessons on sword fighting. They loved it, and Pippin and I loved it too.

Merry sometimes joined us with ponies, and we fought horseback, leaving the children in absolute awe, as we told the stories of how we got our ponies and named them (Merry's was Éomer, Pippin's was Faramir, and mine was Minas, short for Minas Tirith). Other days, Pippin, Merry, and I would engage in thunderous horse- or foot-races across the Shire, from Hobbiton clear across to the Old Forest. Or we'd chat in memory about the things we were doing two years ago as we made our incredible journey, and when we weren't enjoying ourselves we were doing hobbit-like sorts of things.

The neighbors were terribly glad we hadn't lost all hobbit sense.

Sam continued to tend Bag End's garden, and come for visits, but mostly stayed with Rosie, who needed a lot of help. I helped the new family in their hobbit hole, one they'd bought shortly after being married, cooking and cleaning and decorating, or such things. It helped to keep me busy and I enjoyed being a hobbit again, save when Rosie felt the need for me to wear a dress or I felt the need for an exciting swordfight with Merry and Pippin, something they could not resist. But, since Sam and Rosie were married, it meant they led separate lives away from Merry, Pippin, Frodo and I. It meant our companionship had been subtly divided. First by Frodo's distance and now by Sam.

As my birthday approached slowly, and I began to get a feel for the comfortable life in the Shire again, I realized how much I missed Rosie and Sam, even when I was at their hole. And even Frodo, though he was ill often, tried his best to lead a normal life, and we continued to go the Green Dragon weekly for a relaxing evening of singing and dancing.

Rosie, unhappy at the prospect of having to stay home, allowed me to borrow her barmaid's gown and take over her duties serving customers as well as sing for them. The boys thought me a bit young for it, but since I was so responsible and prompt, the owner of the Green Dragon let me work there. Secretly, though, the only reason I think Rosie let me do it was because I was getting a feel for my feminine side again. "She's not living with boys so she doesn't need to act like one," I could picture her sigh, holding her expanding belly. "She's becoming a girl again, beginning to settle down and become a hobbit, thank goodness!"

_23 September 3020, of the Third Age_

_2 Winterfilth 1420, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

The morning of my 29th birthday, the first birthday that we had celebrated in two years, Pippin woke me urgently. "Come on!" He said, coughing as he had been the last week, smiling, and leading me to the kitchen where Frodo and Merry were waiting with breakfast.

"Sam and Rosie brought you presents as well," Frodo said. "And…here…"

He stuffed packages in my hands and I opened them each quickly; a new pen and inkwell from Merry, a new dress (from Rosie, of course), a rack to mount my sword and new belt to hold it, from Sam. Frodo gave me some pairs of pants and boys' shirts ("Don't tell Rosie," he said) and Pippin bought me stacks of paper, hand-drawn with music staffs, to record songs as I wrote them.

After breakfast, and after I'd led a chorus of "Happy Birthday," I invited Pippin to come outside with me for a while.

"Let's go for a walk," I said, actually wearing a blue dress (but not the corset), and Pippin excitedly said yes.

We walked through the Shire together, our swords belted to our waists, our elven cloaks fastened with brooches our shoulders and avoiding the stares everyone gave us. I looked longingly down the road we'd trod many times with Merry…past the field where we'd stolen the fat ponies for a ride before Bilbo's party; the very same road which led to Maggot's farm and beyond. Sitting in a patch of grass, I sighed and let my head fall back, feeling the cool breeze as autumn warned of its ending. I leaned back and let the wind pick up the ends of my hair and blow it around.

Pippin watched silently as a V of birds flew past and he laid back in the grass with his arms behind his head. He coughed a few times and sighed. "I love the Shire, Mandy. I really do love it here. I'm so happy we're home, together, but it's strangely sad, too. Everything is changing now."

"I know, Pippin," I said softly, lying back with him. He rested his head next to mine and shook with shivers even though he had his Lórien cloak wrapped around him.

We stared up at the blue sky together, Pippin resting a hand on his stomach and I on my side, where my wound was still stinging. Time could not heal everything, I supposed. We were all still waiting for that.

Pippin whistled a little tune and then sighed again, trembling with a few hollow coughs. "This looks familiar, oddly familiar," he said, and began a song; his song, my song.

"_Home is behind, the world ahead…" _

His other hand, resting in the grass, found mine, and we edged closer together. Best friends were we forever, come what may. He laced our fingers together and smiled at the clear, blue sky.

_25 March 3021, of the Third Age_

_3 Astron 1421, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Rosie's baby came at last, at the end of March. Frodo was feeling ill and sat at his desk all day, troubled with memories, but that was normal, since it was the anniversary of some terror four years before.

I'd stayed with Sam and Rosie for nearly a week as she waited for her baby, just as a precaution, since Sam did not know what to do. Their baby came in the early morning hours. I was exhausted, having rushed for clean towels and coaxing Rosie who was terrified and in pain, and terrifying me. The boys paced in the other room, asking questions till I shooed them away, and appreciated it greatly when Diamond and Lily came to help as well. Suddenly it didn't seem like we had to hate each other for our differences; we were all girls helping a dear friend with her baby. We exchanged smiles when the girl finally came, and I was thrilled to be the first to hold her.

"Sam," I called softly, "it's a girl…" and handed her to Rosie.

"Now we need a name for her," Sam groaned from the next room, calling on Frodo. "Since we were gonna name him 'Frodo,' and 'cause it's not a he, well, I guess you should name her…"

Frodo smiled, but painfully, at the little girl, whose golden hair had attracted a name to him. "_Elanor_," he said. "After the beautiful golden flowers in Lothlórien."

It was common knowledge that hobbits named their girls often after flowers, and so we were able to keep to that tradition, although explaining what flower _Elanor_ was and where it came from would take some difficulty and angry glances from bewildered hobbits.

Sam promised me I would name their next baby, whatever it might be.

"Welcome, little stranger," I cooed, when Rosie came to call as soon as she was feeling strong again. She let me hold the baby, and Elanor blinked with big beautiful brown eyes, smiling toothlessly at me and at her mother.

"Oh, she's so cute, Rosie," I said with a smile. "Why, I hope my children…" Then I paused. Seeing Rosie in childbirth was enough to scare me out of thinking of having children. The blood, the pain, the agony, the fear!

"You," she said, "You're almost of age—you'll be 30 soon! And you haven't even set eyes on any boys except for Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. You spent thirteen months with no one except men and still you act as though they are a foreign language to you. How on earth you expect to have children without a boy to settle down with is beyond this good earth, and beyond my mind, let me tell you."

I blushed, thinking of eligible boys I could "settle down" with, and she caught sight of it. It was true, I'd spent over a year with men and I was no closer to finding one than Elanor was. No normal hobbit boy would care that I was a Guard of the Citadel, or a noble knight of Gondor, or a defender of the Ringbearer, or one of the saviors of Middle-Earth. No other hobbit but the ones I'd spent time with would understand what I had gone through, and would probably be forewarned by their parents that there was something wrong with me. I did not, of course, explain this to Rosie, for she would say something about how she accepted Sam as he was, though in the Shire, boys going to war and girls going to war was very different. I just nodded nonchalantly at Rosie, who nodded back, satisfied that her words had made some impact on me.

Life did in a way return to normalcy. Rosie and Sam, who wanted to live their lives, often called on Pippin and I to watch over Elanor, and we together watched her grow, as well as each other. I knew I could and probably never, ever fall in love with Merry or Pippin, since we were closer than siblings and had been through a lot, more than any other boy could go through.

But, I couldn't help but admire Pippin's noble spirit, and his expressive eyes, and his singing voice, though when I looked at Frodo, his bright blue eyes and his courage, all thoughts of Pippin fled and I could only feel my warm face and kicking heart.

**All Turns to Silver Glass, A light on the Water, and Grey Ships Pass Into the West**

_29 September 3021, and the Beginning of the Fourth Age_

_7 Halimath 1421, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Sam and Rosie were expecting another baby the day the carriage arrived for Frodo, bearing his cousin Bilbo. We saw him run to Bilbo and we gathered up our ponies, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and I, and rode in front of it. We had heard little of this latest journey, but we all anticipated it, hearing rumors that the last ship to leave Middle-Earth would carry over the last of the elves and were giving Bilbo a remarkable honor. He would live his last days in peace and comfort, after his great adventure and bearing the Ring.

At a pier, where the surrounding buildings reminded me of Rivendell, a gray ship waited, and gulls called. Pippin, Merry, Sam, and I tied our ponies to a post and trembled in the breeze, awaiting our chance to say a farewell to Bilbo. Though I knew I must have met him as a young hobbit, my cheeks and eyes still held sorrow, like we had just met and now I had to say good-bye to him forever.

A greatly aged Bilbo, much different from the one I'd shook hands with four years earlier, stepped out of his carriage, accompanied by Frodo. Beside the ship stood four tall figures; Gandalf, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond.

"The power of the three Rings is ended. The time has come for the Dominion of Men." She looked to Elrond, who looked down upon Bilbo and then out at the sea.

Elrond said a few quiet words in elvish, and held his arm out to the ship.

"Well," Bilbo said cheerfully, turning to face the five of us hobbits. "I think…I'm quite ready for another adventure." Without looking back, he approached the ship, hobbling to the pier where Elrond took his hand. I turned to Frodo in question, who stared straight ahead.

"The sea calls us home," Elrond translated, as he aided Bilbo in boarding. Galadriel and Celeborn followed him, with a final blessing smile at us.

Gandalf stood above us, and suddenly a pain shot through my chest as he leaned on his staff. "Farewell, my brave hobbits. My work is now finished. Here at last, on the shores of the sea comes the end of our Fellowship."

I opened my mouth, but couldn't speak, for tears were spilling, and spilling fast. Pippin linked his arm in mine and I could hear him sniffling, as was Sam and Merry. Only Frodo was strangely calm. Did he not understand that our dearest friend Gandalf was once again leaving us?

"I do not say 'do not weep' for not all tears are an evil," Gandalf said sadly, looking down at us. Then he looked at Frodo and nodded. "It is time, Frodo."

I looked at Frodo in surprise. "What does he mean?" Sam asked fearfully.

Suddenly I felt the need to run away, to escape, to run far, far away… the tears came faster. Surely, not Frodo?

"We set out to save the Shire, Sam," Frodo said softly. "And it has been saved…but not for me."

Sam was weeping now, staring at Frodo. "You can't mean that!" He howled. "You can't leave!"

Merry hid his face under his hand and Pippin sobbed, holding me close to him. I couldn't take my eyes off Frodo.

"There's so much to care about still," I sobbed. "There's your kin, the Shire, the world you saved! Stop escaping your pain, stop running away, you can't just leave, Frodo! You can't…" I couldn't say any more and shook, my head burying itself into Pippin's shoulder. It was difficult to breathe; my chest was throbbing as sobs caught in my throat and rattled my body. Frodo bent near me but I closed myself in away from him. "Just came to say goodbye," I said softly.

He put a hand on my shoulder and I lifted my head. With his other hand, he led me to him and looked me in the eye.

"I don't mean to hurt you any more," he said in a whisper. "And especially not myself. But I cannot stay, I cannot linger here. You don't want to watch me die…" He paused as my eyes grew weak and helpless, and tears came. "I don't expect you to understand…you did not bear the Ring. Only one other could understand this burden." He looked at me one last time and walked to Sam, handing him the Red Book; Bilbo's stories and his.

"The last pages are for you Sam," he said. He gave him a sorrowful look, and turned to all of us. Silently, he hugged Merry, then Pippin, and me. He stood before Sam last, and placing a hand on his cheek, kissed his brow. Pippin, Merry, and I were still sobbing as Frodo turned back and gazed at me, walking back slowly.

"Why do you weep?" He asked as he lifted my chin with his hand. "What are these tears upon your face?"

A single tear fell down my cheek as he shut his eyes and kissed my forehead, and took my hand, squeezing it, bending down and kissing the tear from my face. "Goodbye," he said. "Farewell."

As he turned away, I took a step forward. My words were blurred by tears. I was thinking of Merry's words in Fangorn. I felt my chin trembling as Frodo stopped again, turning back with a look of confusion.

"Don't say we've come to the end," I said. I had to turn away from him, heart pounding, as he boarded the ship and smiled broadly at each of us. "Goodbye," I repeated in a murmur. "Farewell."

As the ship grew smaller, the tears continued to fall, and the pain in my heart grew. I sang, knowing Frodo would never hear me, but I believed and hoped, with all my heart.

"_Hope fades, into the world of night… _

_But we will meet again, Frodo. _

_You'll be in my arms…safely…just sleeping…_"

After all that we'd been through, I could not shake off the thought that Frodo was gone forever. For ages, it seemed, Sam and I stood silently on the pier, sobbing together. Merry and Pippin had to turn away, to go home, for Pippin was feeling ill, though I paid that no mind.

"Curse and damn these consequences!" Sam shouted at the white gulls. "Why do you call him?" He broke down into tears again and opened Bilbo's and Frodo's book of memoirs, sitting down on a small stone wall next to me. I tried comforting him, but sorrow engulfed me again, and I hung my head, sobbing without seeing anything and without feeling anything but the emptiness of my heart and the warm, wet tears.

It took a little while, but eventually Sam got to his feet, wiped his eyes, and held his hand out to me. We mounted our ponies, riding in silence, allowing the tears to fall, and allowing the pain to overwhelm us.

We reached Sam's home, where Rosie was waiting with little Elanor. She ran to my pony and pulled on my skirt, waving shyly. I hopped off slowly and wrapped my arms around her, leading her, hand-in-hand, to where Rosie and Sam waited. Sam kissed his wife and picked Elanor up, looking out over the horizon, and down at me.

"Well, I'm back," he said.


	21. Chapter 21

Pippin Lays Down his Sweet and Weary Head as Night Falls, Dreaming of the Distant Shores

After bidding goodbye to Sam and Rosie (Sam who quietly handed me Frodo's Red Book to hold for awhile), I plodded off to Bag End alone, where now the only ones who awaited my return were Merry and Pippin.

Merry was sitting on the threshold, his face in his hands. I tied my pony to the fence and ran to him, my heart nearly collapsing, it felt so empty, and I felt terribly sick from crying so. When I reached him, he threw his arms around me, laying his head on my chest, weak from exhaustion and sobbing.

"What is it, Merry?" I asked softly, fighting a new wave of tears. "Why do you weep?"

"Everything…" Merry cried. "Frodo, Sam…now Pippin…"

"Pippin?" I looked up immediately from the Red Book. "Where is he?"

Merry looked into my eyes and shook his head, taking my hands and leading into the house, where Pippin was laying in his bed, tossing restlessly. He coughed and shivered, and I watched as though in a trance. He fitfully choked and coughed, crying as though something was ailing him from the inside, his face had a jaundiced pallor and sweat shone in beads on his face and neck. Red sores were covering his arms and he shook in his sleep, tossing his head like he was frightened, while he held his chest and painfully gasped for breath.

Suddenly, as a pale moon rose over the Shire, I ran to him. Merry stood off; crying, watching his cousin suffer, and I took Pippin's hands, calming him.

"Call Rosie!" I screamed as Pippin loudly cried out.

"You're burning me! Get away!" He howled, pushing my hands away desperately, awaking in a fit of frenzy.

"Pippin, Pippin," I pleaded, looking him in the eye. I was horrified to see they, too, had taken on a yellow hue. "It's me. Mandy. I'm here. We're going to help you."

Pippin, with an utterly frightened look on his face, let me hold his hands and I sat on the bed beside him, pulling blankets over him as he shivered with chills. He stared at me, since it seemed to calm his body, and his eyes softened after a few moments, sinking back into the pillows with relief. "Sleep leaves me in horror," he said, tears falling down his cheeks. "The nightmares…the pain..."

I bent close and embraced him when he cried in pain, and his arms clutched me, fear surrounding him like a fence. "Don't leave me," he whispered. "You promised…in Minas Tirith…you wouldn't leave me…"

"I will keep that promise," I whispered back, brushing some sweaty hair from his brow and kissing him there. His head was giving off heat like the mountain of Doom itself. Pippin looked up at me, scared, like he was already seeing death. "I will kill this thing that ails you," I vowed.

"Help me," he said, as Rosie entered the room, and he slipped back into his terrifying fit of sleep.

I sat in an armchair, slouching, as Rosie held her stomach and prepared mixtures of herbs for Pippin's fever.

"I don't understand," I said. "How he got to be so sick, so quickly."

"I want to know what he has and if it's dangerous to any of us," Rosie said as she placed bowls on Frodo's table and put a kettle of water over his fire. Nothing was going to be 'ours' anymore, it was all Frodo's. Everything he left behind. Merry's voice jerked me out of my thoughts.

"Fever," Merry said in monotone, looking up sorrowfully at Rosie, and Sam, who had just entered with Elanor. "It killed his mother. We did not know how."

Sam sank into a chair, holding Elanor close, and looking with worry at Merry, and Rosie, who was carrying a bowl to Pippin's room.

The song, the anthem of my memoirs that Pippin had sung to me…the words he had taught me years ago, they came to me now, as I followed Rosie, taking Pippin's hand. I picked up my journal and saw the words, the only knowledge of his mother he had spoken…

…_Pippin's voice suddenly grew quieter as he ended the soft melodies. "My mother sang this when I was a young lad. It was my lullaby," he whispered. "But she has gone..."_

"_I'm so sorry," I said quietly, lowering my head. _

"_You remind me so much of her," Pippin said with efforts to smile. "Like you were meant to come, just for me…" _

_I was touched by his sudden loss of innocence and his short steps into another, more perilous world, as he continued the song…_

I knew then exactly what to do, as Rosie forced various medicines down his throat. He struggled and cried with agony, but allowed her to feed him. And Rosie, seeing me for the first time, clutching the Green and Red books, shouted with alarm.

"Out! Get out!" She screeched. "You'll get sick, too! Go!"

I stepped outside and shut the door, holding both books, my journal and Frodo's, to my chest as Rosie changed Pippin's clothes and bedclothes and took the contaminated ones to wash. I allowed her to leave and sank against the door, crying, but determined to help. I pushed my way into the room and quietly stepped inside; sitting beside Pippin on his bed as he coughed and coughed, and his eyes fluttered open, his lips dry and cracked as he peered at me with a slightly aghast expression. I'd promised that I would be there for him, and I would.

"You stayed," he tried to smile but grimaced instead as he felt waves of nausea take over his body. He screwed up his face and held his stomach, turning to the side and fighting the pain. I did my best, wrenching my arms under him and lifting him. His head lolled like a child's and his arms hung limply. He shivered against me, protesting. His struggles didn't do anything for his weight, and I stumbled toward the bath-room. I didn't care that Rosie would screech and put up a fight, I needed to get Pippin into a bath. His body wracked with chills and I could imagine the crusted feeling as the sickness pored over him. I tore his shirt off him, staring at every familiar scratch as I filled the bath with boiling water and washed his body with the steamy heat, wrapping him in warm towels. His trembling calmed. I didn't have the courage yet to give him a full bath, and apologized to him softly. Another wave of pain struck him as I laid him back in his blankets. His head tossed, but he fought hard.

When it had passed, he once again turned to me, taking my hand in his. "Are you going to read to me?" He asked hoarsely, his eyes on Bilbo and Frodo's book. He tugged at my hand so passionately.

"Yes," I said, smiling through my tears, annoyed at myself for spilling tears, and opening the book to the first page, and began reading the first chapter aloud before he fell asleep.

_6 November 0001, of the Fourth Age_

_15 Blotmath 1421, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

Each night, though Rosie denied it, I swear I saw improvement in Pippin, or at least, when he was with me. When I wasn't reading to him, or comforting him, I was singing, holding his hand and watching his constant struggle as life threatened to leave him.

After a week, Pippin could sit up and speak without flinching. His fever had not been burning through him as constantly, and the red sores had faded. His skin, still ashy, yellow and pale, did not change, while he himself filled with life again. I could see Merry smile again, Sam stayed home with Elanor, and Rosie visited for less frequent checkups on Pippin. He smiled broadly at me one evening, as I read the chapter to him about Moria, and he asked many questions. It was the night I stubbornly protested against all forms of modesty and had to struggle to keep from becoming embarrassed as I undressed Pippin and helped him into a bath. I averted my eyes even though we had spent the past four years together and knew every inch of skin on each other's bodies, every scar and callus and scratch. I scrubbed his back with a washcloth in one hand and my journal in the other. I stumbled over the words. His body was unfamiliar to me all of a sudden.

"I remember," he sighed, sinking deep into the water, and taking my hand, stroked it, intertwining our fingers. His face took on a sort of stubborn expression as he looked into my eyes and I saw the light leave them. He looked down again and sighed sadly. "Goodnight…love…I mean, Mandy," he murmured, drifting into sleep. "Goodnight."

_13 November 0001, of the Fourth Age_

_22 Blotmath 1421, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

The fever returned, worse than before, and this time no one could go near Pippin since he cried and screamed in his sleep and any touch caused him immense pain.

"Please, don't touch me," he would cry, dazed. "I'm scared…"

Tears filled my eyes as I watched him, unable to do anything but just watch, but he constantly called for me, asked me if I was still with him. No herbs could help him, and no words could comfort him. He could not eat, anything he downed he instantly regurgitated, and his breath came in weak, raspy breaths. Coughs rattled his body and left him weak, and his fever burned with the fuel of a thousand of Mordor's fires.

Each day, I hoped and prayed for him, though I felt that it was coming to the end; that the disease was finally taking over. And every night I slept in bed beside him, unable to sleep as I heard him moaning in pain and crying quietly, murmuring pieces of his nightmares. His hot body pressed against mine was enough to chill me out of sleep.

Listlessly, I sat in my chair, slept in my bed, holding his cold and clammy hands constantly and singing to myself, unsure of what would happen.

_17 November 0001, of the Fourth Age_

_26 Blotmath 1421, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

I left the room one evening, for a cup of tea, and as I was taking a mug from the cabinet, Merry gave a curtling cry.

"Mandy! Please come! _Hurry!"_ His voice was desperate.

I rushed into the room, dropping my mug on the floor in the kitchen. What I saw stopped me immediately. Pippin was lying, lifeless, in his bed, deathly pale and Merry was sitting beside him in the chair, holding his arm, and shaking from shock. "I found him like this," he said weakly.

I ran to the bedside, feeling for a pulse, waiting for Pippin to cry out and say we were hurting him, but he did not respond. I took his hand and his face, calling his name, while Merry backed the chair away, holding the back of his hand to his mouth as he choked with sobs.

"Pippin?" I cried, and knelt next to him. "Pippin…wake up! Please, Pippin, wake up! Wake up!" He did not move.

"_Answer me_!" I screamed. _"Pippin! PIPPIN!_" Looking down on my friend, his eyes closed, I bowed my head to the side of the bed and wept, Merry holding me and I holding my dearest friend. "Pippin…"

I held his head and cradled him, crying as his head fell limply on my shoulder. Bowing my head I lifted his chin and kissed his cheek, laying him back on his pillows. Merry fell to his knees beside the bed, his hand covering mine as I took Pippin's.

Then…like a breeze from a shore far away, a small finger twitched, encased in my hand. I felt Pippin's palm squeeze mine gently, and I looked at it, like I was dreaming again. Then suddenly Pippin was overtaken with life as he gasped for air, and raised his head, coughing and crying. He looked at me and Merry with a frightened gaze and then his eyes fell back to me, his head sinking back into the pillows as he breathed in life.

"Pippin," I choked simply, clutching his hand to be sure it was real.

He coughed once more and shook, shutting his eyes for a moment, before speaking, very slowly. "The gray mists…" he whispered, looking into space, and back to me. "…they were clearing my head of the world, just like Gandalf said they would…I looked across to the white shores, I saw Boromir… Boromir, standing there, was smiling at me, holding out his hand!"

Merry laughed as tears streamed down his face, and he put a trembling hand on Pippin's shoulder. Pippin took a calm breath and continued. "But before I could take it, he faded and spoke…and he said to me, 'Listen…listen to that girl calling you…She wants you home, Pippin…She wants to finish telling her story…Go home to her.'"

I smiled, Pippin's image becoming blurred with tears as Merry felt his forehead. "His fever's breaking," he said with relief.

Pippin choked on his tears, as he weakly slung his thin arms around me and kissed my cheek. "I felt you there, you must know," he said which got me sobbing again, as I held him and rocked him.

"_Hearts beating hard, rushing to rob_

_You're lost here and I have waited so..._

_Without you here, I crawl and sob_

_I retch and scream, without you near..."_

Pippin's eyes brimmed with tears as I sang to him, tucking him into bed, and leaning to kiss his brow. He jerked his chin up, and our noses touched, our lips brushed. The words, that we knew so well, now found themselves on my tongue as I sang him his mother's lullaby.


	22. Chapter 22

The Evenstar Pays us a Visit, and My Songs Prove Correct

_23 November 0001, of the Fourth Age_

_1 Afteryule 1421, Shire-Reckoning Time..._

After that night, Pippin began to show evident and rapid signs of recovery, and he was stronger than ever before. Like I'd promised him years ago, I continued to read Frodo's documented story to him. My own story was still a work in progress. The _Lord of the Rings_ part was finished, but what had happened afterwards; Frodo's leaving and Pippin's illness wasn't quite there. But, I read every day, one chapter, from each of our stories, as I said I would, and Pippin anxiously waited for that, pulling his covers around himself and smiling every time I opened the Book, and he would peer at the penmanship as well as listen to everything that had happened, learning about Frodo's journey for the first time, and hearing Frodo interpretation of when we had begun the road together.

And at the end of the chapter about Lothlórien, Pippin begged me to sing him a song, one of my very own. So, I made up a lullaby, just for him.

"_Sleep, now, lay down in my arms_

_Night is falling, love, rest on me_

_I imagine you're already sleeping _

_I hold you closer, and whisper to your dreams_

_Sleep, now, lay down your head_

_Larks are calling, love, rest and see_

_You're weary but you'll soon be strong_

_Close your eyes, wait for sleep to take you home..."_

It was true, too. Since Pippin grew ill I grew accustomed to sleeping in his bed, our arms tight around each other, his head resting on my chest sometimes, my head sometimes on him.

"Peregrin Took. My hero. My prince," I'd murmur. It warmed his heart.

Pippin was dozing on his pillows, so I kissed his head lightly and crawled next to him. But now he was well again, and his sickness could not distract me from what was missing.

Frodo, it seemed, had crept back into my heart. Without Pippin to care for, I was fluttering back to Frodo's eyes and face, his fair face which had been away from me for far too long. At the Green Dragon, while a light snow fell outside, I sang of Frodo, though discretely. It was his first Yuletide away from us, and suddenly decorating the merry pub with holly and mistletoe didn't seem as enjoyable.

Pippin, who knew all and understood all (since when had he become so wise?) slyly told me I was in love and might as well admit it.

"Go back to your drawing," I scolded, mending one of Merry's vests, while Pippin had picked up my drawing book and was sketching a picture of him and me in Minas Tirith.

"I wish I could get out of this bed," he sighed instead, looking longingly out the window, and with a little toss of his head, looking back at his sketch.

"That's good Pippin," I said, bending over it.

"Thanks," he smiled.

The words pricked at my memory and my smile faded a bit.

"_That's good, Pippin," Merry called. _

_Pippin's concentration lessened as he turned towards Merry. "Thanks," he replied happily, swinging his sword toward Boromir again._

"_Alright, let me try," I said confidently, and took Pippin's place._

I followed his lead and stared out the window, thinking of Frodo, running away and leaving us forever, his very dearest friends, just to escape pain. "We have baggage too!" I sighed, shaking my head, and staring absentmindedly down. "Goodbye," I whispered, to a listening Pippin. "I never said…'goodbye'…"

Whether or not Pippin knew what I was saying, it didn't bother me. I had to get up, to walk around, to get out…

Merry stopped me on my way out. "Just trying to say goodbye," I said, handing him his yellow vest.

"What?" Merry was worried now. "What do you mean? You're not leaving…"

"For a little while," I said, shaking my head clear of everything. I wanted to scream, no matter how happy I was in the Shire, no matter what I was doing, there was something nagging. The memories shot me like a dart, and I sank against a tree, thinking hard. No matter what, I was constantly in a daze, even when I felt that everything was as normal as it could possibly be.

"You know, Mandy," Merry's words had echoed in my head when I left Bag End a few moments before. "I wouldn't say it was Frodo you were yearning for. It isn't Frodo you're in love with at all, is it?"

I stood up, looking at Bag End, taking deep breaths and calming myself, thinking in agitation at how long I'd denied that I was thinking of Frodo as someone more than a good friend. Merry and Pippin were just my brothers, Sam was my in-law, and Frodo was just…I shut my eyes and smiled, and then realized how impossible it was.

I imitated stabbing myself and sagged to the ground, holding my chin in my hands. "Well," I told myself sarcastically, "if ever there was someone who made the worst judgments in all Hobbiton, it'd be you Mandy. You can't go off adventuring, you can't settle down to pick a suitable boy, and you definitely can't fall in love with someone who's now halfway around Middle Earth, never to be seen again. And now you're trying to listen to a once-petty-criminal's advice on love. What does he know that I feel, anyway?"

Miserably, I picked up a rock and threw it.

"Ow," a familiar voice cried.

I jerked up immediately, and scrambled to see if it was really him. As soon as I caught sight of him dismounting his horse, I wrapped him up in my arms. "Strider!" I cried happily. "You've come!"

"I heard about Pippin, and I know about Frodo, and Sam, for that matter," he said. "How are you?"

"Fine," I said, smiling broadly. For once, it wasn't a lie. I hadn't lost Pippin, and he was all too dear to me. Taking the hand of the King of Gondor, I skipped up to Bag End, as happy as a hobbit in the Shire who wasn't off on adventures.

Arwen, now Aragorn's wife, followed, shaking her head with a smile.

"Look!" I cried to Merry, who was also grinning, like he had some secret to share. "Look who's arrived!"

Merry crossed his arms, still grinning. "Hello, Strider!" he said, and bowed to Arwen. "Hello, Lady Arwen."

I took Aragorn into Bag End and curtsied to Arwen, mouthing apologies, and running to start a pot of tea. A young hobbit interrupted my task and I was knocked off balance, confused for an instant.

"Pippin!" I cried. "You're supposed to be in bed…"

For a moment I saw blue eyes instead of green.

"Frodo…" I whispered, closing my eyes. "No. It cannot be…this must be a dream…in my head…it's not real." I pictured his face, his dark hair and blue eyes, and realized he was unfamiliar to me. He had been gone too long, and had been too missed.

And the young hobbit that really did stand in front of me enveloped me in a heartwarming embrace which lasted a few long minutes, and he kissed my forehead, so that I almost dropped the tea. I opened my eyes to Pippin, and touched my lips to his cheek quickly. "I thought Frodo was back," I stammered.

"We let Frodo go," Pippin whispered, squeezing my hand.

I'd nearly forgotten that Rosie had birthed her second child, a little boy, the day before. Sam came running to Bag End a half-hour later, after I'd served everyone tea, though I was still a bit dazed.

"You have to name the little one," he said. "This one hasn't got no golden hair neither, though. He's got darkest hair I ever saw in two golden-haired parents."

"I already know what his name should be," I said with a smile.

"Oh yes?" Sam teased. "And what is that? Pona, maybe? Or Ponto?"

"No, Sam," I said with a giggle, sipping my tea. "Frodo." I looked back into my memories, into his fading smile and big blue eyes.

"Frodo…" Sam said, shaking his head. "Of course. That makes perfect sense."

Smiling as conversations between friends resumed, I looked from my lap to Sam, who was chatting with Aragorn, to Arwen, who was laughing with Rosie, holding little Frodo Gamgee. Merry was showing Elanor a trick and Pippin was giggling, his cloak wrapped around him as he knelt on the floor, his coughs still evident but growing weaker.

Merry met my eyes, and winked. Frodo was never coming home, and I still was grieving it. But something was pressing me. Merry was very wise, and I wasn't getting his hints. Suddenly I felt very dizzy.

I excused myself for a moment, stepping out into the bright sunshine and leaning on the door. At my feet blinked a golden object, obscured by the grass. I bent down, about to take it, when I saw what it was. Flashes struck me and I recoiled. It came back to me like flashes of a sword's blade: The snow. The Package. The coffee mug. The pre-book. The brooch. Falling from my stoop. The memories had left my mind as quickly as they had entered it, and I could not determine what they were or where they'd come from. But I somehow understood that I was to make a choice. My hand still poised over the leaping-horse brooch, I smiled to myself, looking down at my tea and at all the Shire. _Merry was right,_ I thought. _You don't know unless you make the journey. _Shaking my head at the leaping horse figure, set there by some force, I chose my own destiny and my own future. I got to my feet and turned my back on the brooch forever, opening the door to Bag End where Merry was ready to open it himself.

"Come on in," he said with a grin. "Join us."

I walked back with Merry's arm around my shoulders, where everyone was gathered still, around Frodo's fire. I shook Merry's arm from my shoulders playfully and beamed, sinking back into my chair. Merry winked again, his words rushing back so fast I felt frightened. _It isn't Frodo you're in love with at all, is it? _ I pictured Frodo there with us, he shaking his head as Aragorn laughed at a joke Sam had told. My mind clicked together. How blind I'd been!

Pippin, kneeling beside Elanor, rolled her a toy and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, coughing a few times. Rosie, busy chatting with Arwen, handed him little Frodo and he stood up next to the fire and rocked the baby, who was looking at me with his big eyes. Pippin's gaze met mine as he saw where little Frodo was looking and he smiled, turning back to the baby, singing quietly and beautifully a very familiar lullaby.

The End of the Fellowship & The Door is Closed for Good


End file.
